Yuletides
by TheFictionalMe
Summary: Or, five times Scott and Malia tried to spend Christmas together, and one time they did. Scalia/Scolia, lots of hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, and romance.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Yuletides**

 **Or, Five times Scott and Malia tried to spend Christmas together, and one time they did.**

 _ **Author note: Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to my Scolia Secret Santa, sarcasticfina! (Tarafina on here I believe).**_ _ **And extra special thanks to scoliatrash for organizing this whole Scolia gift exchange on Tumblr, I really got inspired for this one! (And I wasn't even going to do a fic exchange this year, thanks for organizing it!)**_

 _ **So, I couldn't make up mind for just one story, so I did a 5+1 format...which then turned into a 30k fic... Lots of H/C, fluff, angst, and romance ahead, hope you enjoy!**_

 _ **Fictional**_

 ** _Update: It has come to my attention that having this long of a story in one long chapter is not an easy read (to which I completely agree actually), so I'm going to format and repost each part as separate chapters. Sorry if I caught anyone in the middle of reading this! It may take a few days to re-upload each part as I'm doing it from my Ipad while I'm out of town, just a heads up. Happy (easier) reading!_**

* * *

 **ONE-Baby It's Cold Outside**

 _"I'm so sorry, sweetheart, there's just no way I'm going to make it home in time for Christmas."_

"Dad, it's okay," Malia sighed through the phone, hoping she sounded reassuring. "I understand."

" _No, it's not okay_ ," Henry Tate's voice was clearly distraught through the line, and Malia furiously blinked back tears, silently grateful he couldn't see them. " _We've already missed too many Christmases together, and I..."_

"Dad, look, it's okay," she forced her voice to be steady as she cut off his apology, "really. It's not your fault all the flights out were canceled. We'll just celebrate when you get back, okay? It's not a big deal."

She really hoped she sounded convincing, not wanting her father to feel anymore guilty than he already did, when it was completely out of his control in the first place.

There was a long pause over the line before her dad spoke again, his voice thick. " _Okay, Malia. I promise I'll be back as soon as I can."_

"I know that, Dad, don't worry," Malia replied softly. "Merry Christmas."

 _"Merry Christmas_ ," he replied, and then she hit the end button on her phone.

She carelessly dropped her phone on the kitchen counter of her house with a loud clatter, wincing at how loud it echoed in the empty space.

All alone on Christmas Eve. Not exactly how she had envisioned only her second Christmas back as being human going, but there was nothing she could do about it now. Her dad was stuck out on the east coast, while she was still in Beacon Hills.

Briefly, Malia wondered if she wasn't feeling even more lonely because now that she and Stiles had broken up, she didn't even have the back-up plan of going with him and the Sheriff for Christmas either.

It had only been a few months now since she and Stiles had split up, but they had gotten to a relatively cordial place now, where they were somewhat friends again. Honestly, she wasn't entirely sure _how_ she was supposed to act around him now, human emotions were something she was still learning how to navigate, but at least they could be in the same room together now without it being overly awkward.

Besides, after everything that had happened with the Dread Doctors and the Beast, the pack had been so busy fighting them off and trying to stay alive, they really hadn't had time to worry about petty break-up issues when Beacon Hills was in danger of being razed to the ground.

Not to mention how Theo Raeken had effectively almost completely destroyed the pack from the inside out, which had been worse than anything else they'd been through combined. Malia didn't feel an ounce of sympathy that the manipulative chimera was now quite literally rotting in hell.

Theo had gotten what he deserved.

Malia sighed, picking up her phone again, fingers itching to text Kira, before she belatedly realized that she wouldn't be able to reach the kitsune anyways. Kira was back with the skinwalkers now, and she had told them all that she didn't know when she'd be back, or _if_ she'd be back, even in their lifetime.

She'd become one of Malia's closest friends, and it was hard to think about the fact she might never see the kitsune again.

Malia paused, setting her phone down once again, wondering how she was going to spend her night now that she was going to be all alone. She'd become used to being lonely with all her years living in the woods, but ever since she'd been back, she'd found that she really _hated_ that feeling, and she had been determined not to feel that way anymore.

She toyed with the thought of texting Lydia or Scott as a last ditch effort to quench her growing loneliness, to reach out to her remaining closest friends, her _pack_ , but she didn't want to bother them on Christmas.

Surprisingly to them both, Malia and Lydia's friendship had really grown over the past few months. Malia was about to text her too when she paused, fingers hovering her phone screen. She knew Lydia had gone out of town with her mother to visit family down state for most of Christmas break, because Ms. Martin couldn't have been more eager to get her daughter away from Beacon Hills for a while after the whole horrific ordeal with Eichen House.

That left Scott.

Even though she and Stiles had broken up, Scott hadn't treated her any differently, even though Stiles was his best friend. In fact, he had been there for her more than ever before, counting on her during the whole Dread Doctors fiasco, and making sure she knew what an important place she had in their little rag-tag pack.

 _You can talk to me._

 _What if I told you you're the only one I have left?_

Malia had come to realize in recent months just how important her friendship with Scott was to her, and just how much he influenced her, made her want to be stronger, be _better_. Stiles may have been her anchor, but Scott was what tied her to her humanity.

She debated on texting him when she sighed again, shaking her head and putting her phone carefully back down on the counter. She was sure that he had plans with his mother tonight, and that wasn't something that she wanted to interrupt, because she knew how close Scott and Melissa were. No doubt that they had some special family traditions planned for tonight, and Malia swallowed down the involuntary lump that rose in her throat, thinking back to distant memories with her mom and dad and Kylie and the family traditions that _they_ had always done on Christmas.

Being alone on Christmas really was _awful_.

Just as Malia was beginning to feel sorry for herself, her phone rang shrilly on the kitchen counter, bringing her abruptly back from her spiraling thoughts.

Lydia.

"Hey, Lydia," she answered the phone, forcing mock cheerfulness into her tone. "What's up?"

 _"Don't even bother trying to tell me that you're okay spending Christmas alone, because we both know that you're not."_

Malia scoffed in disbelief, trying to sound offended. "Well uh, hi to you too." She paused, frowning heavily. "Who told?"

" _Your dad called me,"_ Lydia replied simply over the line. " _He told me that he's stuck out east, and he's worried about you being all alone on Christmas."_

Malia sighed, running a hand over her face as she leaned heavily on the counter, phone pressed against her ear. Her heart clenched at the fact that her father felt so guilty that he had reached out to her friends, because he was worried about her being all alone on Christmas. "He didn't need to do that. I'm fine, Lydia. So he got held up for a few days, big deal. We'll just have Christmas when he gets back."

" _Malia, come on,"_ Lydia's tone softened. " _No one wants to be alone on Christmas."_

Malia hesitated for a moment before replying, ready to come up with another excuse before realizing that Lydia would see right through it anyways. "Okay fine, so being alone on Christmas isn't exactly what I had in mind, but it's okay. I'll be okay, Lydia."

" _No, you won't,"_ Lydia said knowingly. " _I wish I was in Beacon Hills, because then you wouldn't have a choice about coming over for Christmas."_

Malia couldn't help the smile that turned up at the corners of her mouth at that. Lydia Martin wasn't known to take no for an answer, especially when it came to an invite to one of her parties. "I'm sure."

" _Well, just because I can't be there to drag you out of your sorrows, doesn't mean there isn't someone there who can,"_ Lydia continued, a hint of pride in her tone.

"Lydia," she asked cautiously, "what did you do?"

" _Oh, nothing,"_ her tone was just a little too nonchalant, " _I just called Scott and told him you were spending Christmas alone."_

"Lydia," Malia sighed in exasperation, "you didn't need to do that. Scott has his own Christmas plans to worry about, and I'll be fine, really."

" _Too late,"_ Lydia snarked cheerfully, " _because he's already on his way over._ "

Malia opened her mouth to argue with her about why that was a completely ridiculous idea, when she suddenly heard a knocking on her front door.

She already knew it was Scott before she even made it out of the kitchen.

"Well, nevermind, he's already here," Malia grumbled through the phone, feeling both guilty she had unwittingly pulled Scott out of his own plans and also relieved that he was there.

" _You'll thank me later,"_ Lydia replied matter-of-factly.

"Sure I will," Malia shot back, but there was no heat behind her words, even as she begrudgingly trudged towards the living room.

" _Merry Christmas Malia,_ " Lydia's tone was a little softer now. " _Tell Scott hi for me."_

"Yeah, you too," Malia replied as she reached the front door. "And Lydia?"

" _Yeah?"_

"Thanks."

She could almost see Lydia's knowing smirk through the phone. " _Of course."_

Malia hung up, simultaneously opening the front door with her free hand. Scott stood on the front porch, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, breath misting in the cold afternoon air. He smiled brightly when she opened the door.

"Hey," he greeted her, "hope it's okay that I just dropped by."

Malia shrugged nonchalantly, opening the door wider and gesturing for him to come in. "Yeah, yeah it's fine." She paused, raising an eyebrow at him. "Besides, Lydia already told me."

Scott chuckled, nodding his head as he walked into the house. "Yeah, I figured she did."

She looked at him carefully as he took off his coat, placing on the back of one of the chairs. "Scott, I'm fine. You didn't need to come all the way out here."

He gave a casual shrug. "It's not a problem. And I thought you could use a friend."

Malia sighed, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. "Yeah, well, my dad got stuck with all the canceled flights, so looks like he's not making it home for a few more days, but it's okay. I can handle Christmas alone."

"Yeah, I'm sure you could," Scott nodded, looking at her seriously, "but you shouldn't have to."

Just the sweetness, the pure honestly of his words, hit Malia right in the heart, and she had to look away, feeling a sudden wetness building in her eyes and silently hating herself for it.

Maybe if she was really ready to admit it to herself, she _did_ hate the thought of being all alone tonight.

She took a deep breath as she turned away and walked towards the kitchen, determined to get a grip on her unexpected emotions. Scott followed slowly behind her, and they gathered around the kitchen island.

"What about you?" Malia cleared her throat, looking at him carefully as he sat on one of the kitchen stools. "Don't you have plans for Christmas?"

Scott smiled softly at her. "Yeah, with my mom, but she's working until this evening, and then I have to go home and help. Christmas dinner is one of her favorite things to make together."

"You can cook?" Malia asked incredulously, and he laughed at that.

"Yeah, I can. It's just been me and my mom for a long time, so I had to learn pretty young. I'm not that bad, actually."

"That's, that's nice," she grinned at him, looking for the right words. "I have to be honest, I didn't see that about you."

"There's a lot of things about me you haven't seen," Scott smirked back, and although he had meant it as a joke, suddenly the tension in the room became incredibly thick, almost like their conversation was suddenly moving dangerously close to _flirting_ , and Malia wasn't sure how to handle _that_.

She quickly turned away, still unsure how to react, absently opening her fridge and scanning the contents inside. She desperately racked her brain for a topic change, sure that Scott hadn't even noticed, or at least he wasn't acting like it, and she wanted to change the conversation before he did.

"Uh, how's Kira? Have you...talked to her?" she asked over her shoulder, really trying to sound nonchalant.

"No," Scott shook his head with a sigh, and she couldn't help but feel slightly relieved, realizing it was just her who had felt the awkwardness and that it must have just been in her head. She shook her head at herself as she turned back around with a carton of eggs now in her hand as Scott continued.

"When I took her back to New Mexico, that was the last time we talked." He paused then, frowning heavily. "I hope she's okay."

"Me too," Malia smiled sympathetically as she put the eggs on the counter between them. She realized now for the first time, that Scott was probably feeling about Kira the way she was about Stiles, probably even more so because his break-up with Kira had been because of unforeseen circumstances, not the course of their relationship naturally running out like her and Stiles.

"So, uh, what are the eggs for?" Scott asked then, clearing his throat, and they were both silently grateful for the distraction to a lighter topic.

"Oh, well since you're such a good cook and all," she was grinning at him now, all the tension thankfully gone, "and I'm not, I thought you could make me some Christmas cookies."

Scott grinned incredulously with a shake of his head. "Oh really?"

"Really," Malia nodded firmly, reaching into the top cupboard and pulling out a large mixing bowl before turning back to him. "It's the least you could do, you know, since I'm going to be alone on Christmas."

Scott put a hand to his heart as if he was wounded. "Wow, you really went right for the guilt trip."

Malia just shrugged at that. "What can I say, when it comes to food, I have no shame."

"Alright, then I'll make you some Christmas cookies," he stood up from the kitchen stool, eyeing her mischievously, "but only on one condition."

Malia rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. "Okay, fine. What?"

"How about instead of me making the cookies for you," he stepped closer, taking the box of sugar cookie mix that she had just found in the pantry from her hands, "I teach you how to make them?"

Malia couldn't stop the smile that lit up her face at that. "Deal."

* * *

Several hours and a few batches of sugar cookies later, Malia and Scott were covered in flour and frosting and maybe even some sprinkles, but the cookies were done.

Malia didn't think she had laughed so much in her entire life, Scott's unending patience with her as he tried to teach her how to bake somehow turning into an all out frosting war by the end.

Which she had won, of course.

"These are awesome," she sighed blissfully around another mouthful of frosted sugar cookie as she put at least the third one in her mouth.

"Yeah, they came out pretty good," Scott agreed, taking a bite of his own cookie. He glanced over at her with an amused look on his face.

"What?" She paused mid-bite, staring back at him.

"You, uh," he took a hesitant step towards her, gesturing at her mouth, "you have some frosting..."

"Oh, where?" Malia gestured at her face, wiping at it uselessly with her frosting covered fingers, smearing it even more. "Did I get it?"

He laughed at that with a wide grin. "Here, let me help."

His fingers were feather light against her skin as he gently wiped the frosting away from the corner of her mouth.

"There, got it," he said softly, freezing for a long moment as they just stared at each other, both suddenly aware of how incredibly close they were now, their noses almost touching.

It felt like time stood still, and Malia _knew_ that this time Scott felt that unspeakable tension as well.

"Uh, thanks," she recovered first, taking a step backwards until they were a safe distance apart again, not sure what was happening, not sure that it _should_ be happening at all.

"Of course, no problem," he replied quietly, leaning back against the kitchen island now, studying her with an unreadable look.

"Not just for the cookies," Malia plunged onwards, the words suddenly tumbling out of her mouth. She had had a great time with Scott the whole afternoon, her mind completely distracted from the fact that her dad wouldn't be home for Christmas, for which she was immensely grateful, and she wanted him to know.

"For what?" he questioned curiously, looking back at her.

"For...everything," she sighed heavily, gesturing widely with her arms. "For coming to check up on me. For making sure I wasn't alone on Christmas."

He nodded, a soft smile on his face now, eyes shining. "Of course, Malia. That's what friends do."

"Yeah," she replied quietly, holding his gaze for a long moment, wondering what was happening, if there _really_ was a sudden shift in their friendship..when his phone rang shrilly, effectively ending the moment.

Scott sighed heavily, pulling out his phone as both of them silently hoped it wasn't some supernatural disaster happening on Christmas Eve.

"Hey mom," he answered brightly, and Malia let out a sigh of relief that it was just Melissa. "Yeah, I'll be right home. See you soon."

After he hung up, he looked up apologetically at Malia. "Sorry, my mom is home. I have to go."

"No, of course, it's okay," she quickly reassured him. "But, uh, thanks for coming over. Seriously."

"I had a good time," Scott replied, hesitating for a moment before adding, "really."

"Me too," she smiled genuinely now, "really."

"Uh, Malia," he paused, suddenly looking a little unsure, "do you want to come over tonight? For Christmas?"

She just blinked at him. "Wait...do you want me to?"

"Well, yeah," Scott shrugged sheepishly. "I mean, you're more than welcome to. I mean, it would be okay, if you wanted to. We'll have plenty of food..."

"I wouldn't want to intrude," Malia cut him off. "It's Christmas, and it's your family thing with your mom. I wouldn't want to be in the way."

"You wouldn't be, I promise," Scott stepped closer to her, voice sincere. "My mom would love to have you over, seriously."

"I don't know..." she was still hesitant, feeling like it just wasn't her place to invade the McCall's family Christmas.

"Malia, come on," Scott urged her with a convincing smile, "you shouldn't be alone on Christmas."

She looked back at him for a long moment before finally relenting with a small smile. "Yeah, okay. I'll come."

He looked slightly relieved when she agreed. "Okay, great. I'll tell my mom."

Malia looked down at her flour and frosting covered clothes then with a grimace. Their frosting war had _really_ gotten out of hand. "I'm going to have to clean up first though."

"Me too," he laughed, looking down at his own ruined clothes. "And just so you know, that wasn't my fault."

"It totally was," she scoffed at him, jabbing a finger in his direction. "You started it."

"It was an accident," he didn't even bother to hide the amused look on his face.

"Yeah right," she shook her head. "Wiping frosting on my nose was definitely _not_ an accident."

Scott put his hands up in a placating manner, still grinning like an idiot. "I plead the fifth."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on to you, McCall," she raised her eyebrows at him in challenge. "But whatever, now I have to go change, so what time should I come over?"

"In an hour or so?" he replied, still smiling at her. "The food will be almost done by then, at least."

"Fine, I'll see you then," Malia replied, grimacing as she pulled some frosting out of her hair. "After a shower anyways."

Scott just laughed at that. "Sounds good." He headed towards the door, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on over his stained clothes. He paused to glance at her over his shoulder as he reached for the door handle, hesitating for a moment. "See you soon?"

"See you soon," she confirmed with a nod of her head, and with another smile in her direction, he headed out the door.

Malia closed it behind him, leaning heavily against it for a moment, thinking of their fun afternoon together, at the warm stirrings in her heart at how much Scott truly cared for his friends, cared for _her_.

She didn't deserve him.

She tried not to think past that, of anything more than friends, because that's all they were, that's all they'd ever been, and she still had _no_ idea why things had felt a little different today, almost as if there was something else there, simmering just below the surface.

It definitely wasn't because they were both two lonely people who were newly single on Christmas, whose already close friendship and surviving multiple life and death experiences together had only further strengthened their bond...

Malia shook her head to clear her thoughts, refusing to head down that road, afraid of where it was going to lead, and she headed straight for the shower.

* * *

An hour later, she was almost ready to go, smiling to herself as she sent Scott a quick text to let him know.

 _On my way._

She smiled even wider as he texted back immediately.

 _Great! See you soon._

She grabbed her keys and was heading for the door when it suddenly swung open.

There, standing in the middle of the doorway holding all of his heavy bags, was her dad.

"Dad!" Malia cried in disbelief, and before she knew what she was doing, she had sprinted across the living room and into his waiting arms.

Henry dropped all of his bags to the floor with a careless thud as he wrapped his arms around Malia. "Hey baby girl, I'm home."

"But how?" Malia asked, looking at him in confusion as she finally pulled back from his embrace. "How are you here?"

Henry shrugged, a wide smile lighting his face. "A stranger at the airport overheard my plight, and he offered me his ticket. It turns out, there are still some good people left in this world."

"Wow, Dad, that's...I'm just so glad you're here," Malia smiled at him, blinking back tears.

"Me too, Malia. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," she hugged him again, and then walked with him into the kitchen. His eyes widened when he spotted the amount of cookies and frosting covering every surface of the counter.

"Malia...have you been baking?" he asked quizzically as he took in the state of the kitchen.

She nodded with a proud grin. "Yeah, I have. But I had a little help."

"Oh yeah, from who?" Henry looked at her curiously.

"Scott," she answered with what she hoped was a casual shrug. "Lydia and Scott were worried I was going to be alone on Christmas...after you called and told Lydia that I was going to be."

Henry smiled apologetically at her. "I had to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah, dad, I'm fine," she replied with a sigh, but she was still smiling. "But thanks for worrying about me."

"You know Mal, you have some pretty good friends," Henry mused, looking at her gratefully.

Malia thought back to her afternoon with Scott, her chest tightening a little bit. "Yeah. Yeah I do."

Then she belatedly remembered she was supposed to _be_ at Scott's house right now, and she quickly excused herself to go call him.

" _Hey, are you on your way?"_ Scott's voice floated over the line as he answered.

"Well, actually," Malia replied with a deep sigh, "my dad just got home. Some generous stranger let him have his ticket, I guess."

" _Hey, Malia, that's great, that's really great,_ " Scott sounded genuinely happy for her, and she belatedly wondered why she wasn't more thrilled at the prospect herself. Earlier, that had been _all_ she had wanted for Christmas.

Now she wasn't entirely sure.

"So, obviously I'll be staying home now," she continued quietly. "Sorry for the late notice."

" _Of course, Malia, don't worry about it,"_ Scott reassured her quickly. " _I'm just glad you'll get to spend Christmas with your dad after all."_

"Yeah, me too," she agreed into the phone. "But hey, Scott?"

" _Yeah?"_

"Thanks again for today," she told him sincerely. "Seriously."

" _You're welcome,"_ he replied, and she could almost see him smiling again. " _Merry Christmas, Malia._ "

"Merry Christmas, Scott," she replied softly, and then they hung up.

And even though she was beyond grateful to have her dad back for Christmas, she couldn't help but push down the little bubble of disappointment that she wouldn't be spending Christmas with Scott after all.

* * *

 ** _Merry Christmas all!_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Here's part 2 reformatted, hoping to have the rest up soon. Also, since I didn't explain in my original post, each story part is paired with a Christmas or holiday song that I felt matched the theme, and this is one of my faves by TSO.**_

 _ **Enjoy!**_

 _ **Fictional**_

* * *

 **TWO-Christmas Canon Rock**

This was _not_ how Malia pictured her and Scott's first Christmas together going.

But knowing the hellstorm of their lives when it came to the supernatural, she should have _known_ something like this would happen.

"Stiles," she growled between gritted teeth, trying to hold back her frustration, "what the hell did you do?"

She felt a hint of satisfaction when he actually took a step back from her, looking slightly scared. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this, I swear!"

"Well, clearly you were wrong," she gestured angrily at Scott's unconscious form, as he lay motionless on one of the metal tables at the animal clinic.

"We miscalculated," Lydia sighed heavily from where she stood next to Stiles, frowning as she looked down at Scott. "This whole thing was a mistake."

"That's an understatement," Malia muttered under her breath, before turning back to Scott and running her hands tenderly through his hair. He had been out cold for a few hours now after everything had gone terribly, horribly _wrong_ , and they didn't know how to wake him up. "I thought you guys had decided not to go through with it."

"We did, we _did_ decide that," Stiles shook his head helplessly, "but I, uh, convinced Scott that tonight was our best chance to do it, so..."

Malia snapped her head up to look at him, eyes involuntarily flashing blue. "So you convinced Scott to go out into the woods, on Christmas Eve, and complete some ancient ritual to deactivate the Nemeton, after Deaton told you guys it was a bad idea?"

"I did tell them that," Deaton said matter-of-factly as he walked back into the room then, some sort of mixture now in his hand. "In fact, I told them that it was incredibly dangerous."

Malia growled again, her eyes narrowing at Stiles in anger, because it was easier to be angry at him than to admit that she was scared for Scott. "So this is _your_ fault."

Stiles nodded slowly, shoulders slumping in defeat. "I know that, _trust_ me. I accept 100% responsibility for what happened." He paused, looking at Scott with worry as he bit his lower lip. "I was just trying to help."

"It's not all your fault," Lydia interjected, giving his arm a comforting squeeze. "I was in on the plan, too, and so was Scott. He agreed to do it."

"So, you all just went behind my back tonight and tried to destroy the Nemeton?" Malia scoffed in disbelief. "Are you crazy?"

"It's _our_ responsibility," Stiles replied roughly, clearing his throat. "Scott and I, and Allison, we gave power back to that damn tree, and it was our job to take it away again."

"Only, without Allison," Deaton said gently, because even a few years later her loss was _still_ incredibly painful for them all, "it didn't work."

"No, it didn't," Stiles sighed, scrubbing a hand roughly down his face. "We thought it would be fine, that this would be a way to finally undo what we did, but nothing went the way we thought it would. Because of course, why would it? We don't have that kind of track record."

"I thought I could stand in for Allison," Lydia added hoarsely, her voice tight with disappointment and grief, "but I couldn't. We were wrong."

Malia gave her a sympathetic look, but it didn't lower her frustration at her friends for being so careless, for taking such a big, needless risk that had only ended up with Scott getting hurt.

But deep down, she understood why they had done it. They were all home for Christmas Break, Stiles back from Quantico and Lydia from MIT, and they had wanted to do this to help Scott. They thought that if they could take the power back from the Nemeton, then maybe the amount of supernatural disasters happening around Beacon Hills would lessen, and then Scott would finally be able to leave for the spring semester and make it to UC Davis after all. Ever since the showdown with Gerard and Monroe and the Anuk-Ite, things had been quiet, Monroe still on the run and laying low for the time being, and Stiles and Lydia had only wanted to make sure that Scott finally got a chance to make it to college.

Malia couldn't fault them there. After everything they'd been through, Scott deserved a chance at happiness, to get out of Beacon Hills. They _all_ did.

Stiles looked up at Malia then, eyes shining with remorse. "Look, Malia, I'm sorry. Scott didn't want to worry you, and we thought we'd be done with this tonight before anyone knew."

"Well, you were wrong," Malia retorted, but then her face softened as she squeezed Scott's limp, clammy hand. "But it doesn't matter whose fault it was, or whatever." She looked up at Deaton then, eyes hopeful. "All that matters now is how to help Scott."

Deaton nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line as he filled a syringe with whatever concoction he had come up with. "Other than being unconscious, the rest of his vitals are good." He paused, pressing his fingers against Scott's neck and taking his pulse once again. "He seems to be stable."

"What is that?" Malia questioned, looking at the liquid-filled syringe with hesitation.

"I don't know if this will wake him up," Deaton told them carefully, "but I'm hoping it will help undo some effects from the ritual for the Nemeton."

"And if it doesn't?" Stiles asked, wringing his hands together nervously. "Then what?"

Deaton gave him an impassive look. "Let's just hope this does the trick."

Without another word, he found a vein on Scott's right arm, and slowly began pushing the solution into his bloodstream.

For a few long, agonizing moments, nothing happened, as they all stared down at Scott, hoping for a Christmas miracle, for something to actually go their way for _once_.

Suddenly, just when it seemed like nothing was going to happen, Scott's eyes fluttered slowly, and he groaned as he slowly came back to consciousness.

"Scott?" Malia asked hopefully, squeezing his hand tightly.

"Hey buddy, can you hear us?" Stiles stepped forward, gripping Scott's other shoulder.

Scott slowly opened his eyes and blinked groggily up at them, wincing when the bright light met his eyes. "...what...what happened?"

"Scott, you were at the Nemeton tonight, do you remember?" Deaton's calm voice cut in, drawing his attention back to him.

Scott swallowed thickly, eyes pinched tightly closed again as he struggled to get his bearings. "Uh, no, not really..."

"Yeah, man, we tried to complete the ritual," Stiles added hesitantly then. "But uh, it didn't go exactly as planned. Nothing did."

Scott's eyes suddenly flew open, panic now evident in his voice, his unsteady gaze landing on Stiles. "Wait, my mom, your dad, Argent...where are they?"

Everyone paused, just looking at each other in confusion before they answered him.

"Scott, what do you mean?" Lydia stepped closer, brows furrowed. "They're all at home."

"Wait, they're all okay?" Scott rasped, blinking heavily again, before putting a hand to his head, still in obvious pain. "We got to them in time?"

"Yeah, man, they're all fine, promise," Stiles reassured him, squeezing his shoulder again, and looking over at Deaton with a quizzical look. Deaton just shrugged, not having any answers as to why Scott would suddenly be worried about the three parents.

"Okay, okay, that's good," Scott sighed with relief as he tried to force his eyes open, still blinking sluggishly, his pupils blown wide.

"Scott, are you okay?" Malia asked him worriedly, noticing how he was clutching at his head.

Scott turned and blinked at her for a long moment, not saying anything immediately as he looked back at her. His expression was one of pure confusion as he answered. "Uh, yeah...I'm fine. Just a really bad headache."

"That's to be expected," Deaton added then. "After what happened with the ritual going wrong, I'm surprised it isn't worse."

"Am I the only one this happened to?" Scott asked, looking over at Stiles in concern. "What about you? Or Allison?"

There was a long, heavy silence in the room at his words.

"Okay, what's going on?" Scott frowned, slowly sitting up, Malia and Stiles immediately reaching out to support him. He brushed their hands away, determined to sit up on his own. He wavered but remained upright, sitting now on the table. "Where are they?"

"Where are who?" Stiles asked him carefully, looking at the others before meeting Scott's gaze again.

"Allison, and Isaac," Scott seemed more urgent now, needing someone to give him answers. "Are they okay?"

"Scott, what?" Stiles blinked back at him in confusion, before continuing with a gentler tone. "Come on man, you know that..."

"Wait," Deaton interjected softly, and they all turned to look at him. "Scott...what year is it?"

"Seriously?" Scott sounded worried now, rubbing his forehead again with a pained wince. "Why are you asking me that?"

"Scott," Lydia said then as she realized what was happening, giving him a serious look, "are we in high school right now?"

Scott looked back at her like she had lost her mind. "Well, yeah. It's junior year."

"Oh crap," Stiles muttered under his breath, as he also realized what had happened.

Malia felt a growing ball of dread in her stomach at their reactions.

"What? What's going on?" Scott asked more urgently then. "You guys are starting to freak me out here."

"He doesn't remember," Stiles breathed, looking over at the others in panic. "He doesn't _remember_."

"He's been taken back to the last time you guys attempted a spell with the Nemeton," Deaton realized then with a deep sigh. "That's his last memory."

"When you were sacrifices," Lydia added knowingly. "That's what he's remembering right now."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a second. Are you saying he doesn't remember anything?" Malia asked incredulously, squeezing Scott's hand again, not missing how he stiffened slightly at her touch.

"No, I mean you know who we are, don't you Scotty?" Stiles asked, his voice more unsure than he'd meant it to be.

"Yeah, Stiles, of course," Scott nodded in answer, and they all let out a collective sigh of relief.

"Well, we'll worry about the missing memory part later," Malia sighed, feeling at least some semblance of relief. "At least you're awake again."

A few missing memories weren't the end of the world in the scheme of things, especially in their crazy and violent Iives. She cupped his cheek gently, turning his face back towards her.

Scott blinked at her for a long moment, staring at her face, and Malia suddenly had a sinking feeling that things weren't going to be that simple. He cocked an eyebrow at her, searching her face carefully for a long moment before he finally spoke again.

"...who are you?"

* * *

Scott didn't remember her.

He didn't _know_ her.

Malia really was going to kill Stiles and Lydia for this.

But really, it wouldn't make her feel any better to be mad at them, or to blame them, because Scott had been a willing participant too, and they had just been trying to help.

That didn't make it any less painful.

Scott's memories of the last two years had been erased, taking him back to the night they had first sacrificied themselves to the Nemeton. Which meant, it had taken him back to Allison still being alive, and Isaac still being in town...and back to before he knew her.

Back to _before_ he had changed her back from a coyote.

Deaton didn't know if the effects of the ritual were permanent, or not, and that was the worst part of all. They didn't know why it had erased his memories, or how to get them back.

Malia wanted to punch something. This wasn't something she could fight, or something she could fix, an unseen enemy that she didn't know how to conquer. And all she wanted now was Scott's comforting presence, his reassurance that everything was going to be alright.

But unfortunately, Scott didn't know her, didn't have any feelings towards her at the moment, had no connection at all to their past together.

It hurt more than Malia ever could've imagined.

In reality, he didn't remember Kira or Liam or the rest of the younger pack either, but that didn't lessen the blow any.

So they had taken him home, explaining to Melissa what had happened, as Scott's whole world as he knew it crumbled around him.

He'd had to relearn that Allison was dead, and he _hadn't_ taken it well.

Then he'd had to learn that not only had he already graduated high school, but that Isaac was long gone with no plans to return, and that there were several people in his life, important people (Liam, Kira, Mason, Corey, and _her_ ) that he had no idea even existed, let alone that they were a part of his pack.

And when they'd reached his house and he'd suddenly realized that Argent and his mom were _together_ now, it had almost been too much.

Scott was overwhelmed as he took in everything they were telling him, growing more and more quiet, fists clenched tightly at his sides. He needed some time to process everything, which was completely understandable. So much had happened over the past two years, it felt like a lot _longer._

"I'm sorry, I just..." he stood in the living room facing them all, looking completely lost. "I just, need some time to myself. To wrap my head around all of this."

"Yeah man, of course," Stiles quickly reassured him, and the guilt was palpable in his voice. "We get it."

"Get some rest, sweetheart," Melissa added gently. "We'll be here if you want to talk," she gestured to herself and Argent.

Scott just stared at them, still unable to comprehend the fact that his mom and Argent were an item, before he finally found his voice again. "Yeah...thanks."

"Your memories could still come back, Scott," Lydia tried to reassure him gently. "Just give it some time."

"Yeah, and Deaton's still looking for something that could bring them back," Stiles added hopefully. "We'll figure this out, okay?"

Scott just nodded slowly, looking absently down at the floor and not saying anything for a long moment. When he finally spoke again, he was looking right at Malia, and even though there wasn't a hint of recognition in his eyes when he looked at her, she couldn't help the hopeful leap of her heart.

"I'm sorry," he said as he looked at her, sounding sincere, "that I don't, that I don't know..."

"No, no, it's okay," Malia waved him off quickly, trying to muster her best reassuring look and falling flat. "It's not your fault."

He kept looking at her for a long moment, as if he was trying to think of something else to say, when Melissa interrupted.

"Alright guys, I think that's enough excitement for one night," Melissa told them gently but firmly, steering them all for the door. "Scott needs to rest. Who knows, it may help him remember."

Malia sighed at her hopeful tone, wishing that it could just be that simple, but knowing from experience, nothing in their lives was ever that easy. Melissa squeezed her arm sympathetically, and they locked eyes in understanding as Malia headed for the door, her heart clenching painfully.

"It's Christmas Eve after all, we should all get going," Lydia added quietly, giving Stiles an encouraging nudge in the direction of the door, because it was obvious that he didn't want to leave when Scott was like this.

Malia was nearly in tears as she walked out the front door of the McCall's house, Stiles and Lydia right behind her. As much as all she wanted to do was stay with Scott, to comfort him at the very least, and try everything she could to make him remember, to remember _her_ , she knew that it wasn't what he needed right now. He needed some time, and she was going to give it to him.

So much for their first Christmas together.

"Malia," Lydia said gently as she came up next to her by her car, "are you okay?"

"Oh yeah, sure, I'm fine," Malia replied with a sniff, trying and failing to hide how upset she was. "I'll be fine."

"You don't have to pretend," Lydia reached over and squeezed her hand in comfort. "Not with us."

"Malia, I'm so sorry, seriously," Stiles came up then, apologizing yet again. "I ruined Christmas. I ruined everything."

"Stiles, no, I don't blame you guys, well I mean I _do_ , but I know why you did it, that you were doing it for Scott. It's just..." she trailed off with a shake of her head.

"Just what?" Lydia prodded gently.

"It's just," Malia looked at them seriously, worry evident on her face, "what if he never remembers? What if Scott never remembers me?"

"Hey, hey," Stiles squeezed her shoulder, "don't think like that, okay? Scott will remember, you are too important a part of his life to _not_ remember."

Malia stared at Stiles for a moment before giving him a wry smile. It should have been weird, in a way, for her ex-boyfriend to be cheering on her new relationship, but it wasn't. Somehow, even with all of their complicated relationships, they were a family, a pack, and it was strangely comforting to hear from Stiles that he knew what an important part of Scott's life she had become, because he knew Scott better than anyone.

"I know Scott will remember you," Lydia added, confidence in her tone. "Even if he doesn't remember anything else from the past two years, he'll remember you. You are too intertwined in his life now, and even from before, for him to just forget about something like that."

She paused, giving a knowing smile to Stiles and Malia. "Besides, you don't just forget about something like what you guys have together. He'll remember."

Malia sighed heavily, leaning back against her car. "But that's just it. Right now, in his mind, he's still in love with Allison, and now he's grieving her, all over again."

Although Malia had barely known the other girl, she knew what an impact Allison had had on the pack, especially Scott and Lydia, and that even now they still mourned her loss.

Lydia paused, eyes shining with unshed tears but her voice strong when she finally spoke again. "Allison was his first love, yes, and that was incredibly special...but that doesn't just erase everything special that he has with you."

"Just magical trees and spells gone wrong," Stiles muttered under his breath, causing Lydia to give him a hard look, to which he abruptly closed his mouth.

"As I was saying," she continued, looking at Malia with determination on her face, "I don't know when, and I don't know how long it will take, but Scott will remember."

Malia nodded slowly, her voice hoarse when she replied.

"He has to."

* * *

Christmas Day was a blur. Malia tried not to focus on the fact that not only did Scott not remember her, but he was still asking for a little distance from the entire pack just to wrap his head around everything that'd happened the last two years, everything that he still didn't remember.

Deaton was still furiously looking for a way to reverse his memory loss, with Stiles and Lydia's help, but so far, they hadn't found anything useful.

So a few days after Christmas, she was completely surprised when her phone started ringing, only to see Scott's name lighting up the screen.

Forcing herself not to get her hopes up, she swallowed thickly, trying to sound nonchalant as she answered the phone. "Hello?"

 _"Uh hi...Malia?_ " Scott's voice sounded hesitant, questioning as he said her name.

"Yeah, hi Scott," she replied, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, wondering why he'd called, if he was finally ready to talk to her, the girlfriend he had no memory of ever meeting.

" _I'm really sorry to bother you,_ " Scott rambled on, sounding apologetic, because _of course_ he was that way to everyone, even if she was a total stranger to him now.

"You're not bothering me," she cut him off more harshly than she'd intended too, her nerves getting the better of her. She sighed, continuing in a softer tone. "I mean, it's not a problem."

" _Okay, good, that's good,_ " he actually sounded relieved at her words.

"Wait, are you okay?" she questioned quickly, fearing he'd only called for a terrible reason. "Are your memories coming back? How are you handling everything?"

" _Yeah, I'm okay,"_ he answered, before quickly correcting, " _well, I haven't exactly gotten my memories back, or anything, but..."_

Malia had to swallow down her disappointment at that. "But what?"

" _It'd be easier to explain in person,"_ he replied with a heavy sigh. " _Is there anyway that you could come over? I mean, if it's not too much trouble."_

"Yeah, I'm on my way," she answered quickly, already heading to her car without a second thought.

* * *

The drive to Scott's house seemed painfully long. If he didn't remember her, she couldn't imagine what he would want to see her about, what he could even have to say to her. She wasn't even sure what to say to him, not wanting to upset him with more reminders of a life he didn't remember.

Part of her was dreading that maybe he was trying to let her down easy, to tell her how they just couldn't possibly work when he didn't even have any idea who she was to him.

"Hey, thanks for coming," Scott greeted her with a gentle smile as he opened the door, and it was so easy and familiar that it physically hurt Malia to see it.

Because those smiles used to be for her.

They walked up in awkward silence to his room, before finally sitting on the edge of the bed, notable space in between them.

He didn't say anything for several moments, uncomfortably fidgeting with his hands, as if he was trying to figure out the right words to say.

"Okay," Malia huffed, looking at him with raised eyebrows, "I'm not a subtle person, so I'm just going to come out and ask...why am I here, Scott? What did you want to tell me?"

Scott stared at her for a moment before breaking into an amused smile. "Yeah, right, sorry. I'll just get to it then."

He stood up from the bed, facing her then. "I'm really sorry, Malia, but I still don't remember you, or that we were...together."

She knew she must not have hidden the hurt on her face well enough because his expression quickly changed to one of concern. "Look, I wish I did, I mean I _really_ hate that I don't, trust me."

"No, I told you before, it's not your fault," Malia forced a fake smile, not wanting him to feel worse than he already did about the situation. "You guys made a dumb mistake, but you were just trying to do the right thing."

Scott nodded slowly, jaw tensing. "Yeah, I know. But from the sounds of it, this whole plan wasn't even worth it."

Malia sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "Maybe, maybe not. But you'd never have known if you didn't try."

She paused, giving him a knowing look. "And you aren't someone who gives up, no matter what it is, or how stupid or dangerous the plan might be, if it means you can protect everyone else, and protect Beacon Hills."

He gave her a small smile at that. "I just don't want anyone else to get hurt. And I'm guessing that's why I must have agreed to try to destroy the Nemeton."

"Well, yeah," Malia huffed, but she had a small grin on her face now, "protecting everyone else no matter what is sort of your motto."

His smile got wider. "I guess you really _do_ know me then, huh?"

She nodded slowly as her smile fell. "Yeah, Scott. I do."

His expression became more serious as he walked back over and sat down on the bed again, closer to her this time. "I wish I could remember us, Malia. I _want_ to."

She bit her lower lip, not trusting her voice for a moment at the pained look he was giving her. "I know, and you will. We're not giving up."

She paused to give him a wry smile. "That's something you taught me."

"Oh yeah?" Scott said softly, leaning even closer towards her. "What else did I teach you?"

She knew Stiles had already filled him in on the basics of their history, so she went right to the most important thing that came to her mind. "You taught me how to be kind, but not weak, and how to fight, but not be a monster."

Malia hesitated, reaching over to tentatively lay a hand on his arm before she added, "You taught me what it really means to be human."

Scott gave her a soft smile, putting his other hand gently on top of hers on his arm and squeezing. "Well, maybe that explains the dreams I've been having."

Malia furrowed her brows at him. "What dreams?"

"That's why I called you over here, actually," he confessed with a shrug. "I've been having these dreams the last couple of nights since the Nemeton, only now I'm not sure that they were actually dreams."

She looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I think maybe," he continued, looking at her earnestly now, "that they really were memories, trying to resurface or something."

"How do you know?" Malia shot him a questioning look.

"Because," he squeezed her hand again, "they've all been about _you_."

Malia's heart nearly skipped a beat at his words. "Wait, seriously?"

"Yeah," Scott nodded, giving her another small smile. "Seriously."

"Oh, wow," Malia swallowed thickly, trying to slow her racing heartbeat, because it was impossible not to feel excited at the prospect that maybe Scott was subconsciously starting to remember her. "So, what were the dreams about?"

Scott looked at her earnestly as he continued, unconsciously moving closer to her so that their legs were almost touching, still holding her hand. "It's a little fuzzy, but I had a dream about us in the tunnels? And I think I was hurt, pretty badly, and you took my pain or something."

He paused, raising an eyebrow at her. "Did that really happen?"

Malia's heart was nearly in her throat now, and she nodded slowly. "Yeah, yeah that definitely happened. That's a memory, Scott."

His eyes widened slightly at her confirmation of this. "Wow, okay, if that really happened, then thank you, you know, for helping me."

Malia forced a laugh at that. "You don't have to thank me for that. Besides, I was terrible at it at first. I couldn't take your pain until you passed out from it."

He gave her a crooked grin at that. "Well I'm really glad you figured it out."

"Me too," she smiled a little more now, feeling a little lighter than she had in days since Scott had first lost his memory. "Is that the only dream you've had?"

"No," he shook his head. "I had a few other ones, but I've been trying to piece them together."

"Okay, well then tell me what you dreamed about, and I'll tell you if they really happened or not," she encouraged him, trying to push down her building hope, because she wasn't sure if she could take the disappointment if the rest of the dreams were only that: dreams.

Scott continued on, describing to her some fractured events from the armory when they had been trying to find a way out and nearly dying, as well as grabbing bags from his room when they were pretending to go on the run from Monroe and her army, and being trapped in the police station during the stand-off with the hunters.

Malia couldn't help the hope building in her chest. They may have been resurrecting themselves as dreams, but the memories were definitely there, trying to rise back to the surface of his mind through whatever the Nemeton ritual had done to him.

"So that's it?" she prodded him gently as he finished, "that's all the dreams you've had?"

He looked away for a moment, suddenly looking uncomfortable before he spoke again. "Ah, no. There was one more..."

"Okay, what was it?" she urged him on, wondering why he was suddenly hesitating now.

Scott actually looked a little embarrassed when he glanced back over at her. "Um, okay. It was a really good dream, actually. Or memory. Yeah, it must have been a really good memory."

"So, what was it?" Malia sighed in exasperation. "Just tell me."

"Uh, okay," Scott flashed her a sheepish grin, "well, it was us...together...in the shower."

Malia couldn't help the wide smile that crossed her face at that. She nudged his leg playfully with hers before she replied.

"Oh yeah, that one's _definitely_ a memory."

* * *

"Okay, Scott, are you sure you want to go through with this?" Deaton asked him seriously.

Scott nodded, stepping into the middle of the back room in the clinic. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"I know you're aware, but I have to caution you one more time, that this might not work," Deaton looked at him carefully. "It may even make things worse."

"It doesn't matter," Scott shook his head. "I have to try. If this is the only way to really get my memories back, then we have to do this."

He turned and looked over at Malia, giving her a small smile. She gave him a short nod in return, letting him know that she fully supported his decision to try whatever it took to get his memories back, to get _her_ back.

"Scott, you sure?" Stiles asked from the other side of the room, where he and Lydia stood side by side, watching him with concern.

"Yeah," Scott nodded at him. "Don't worry, this is going to work."

"Not to be a downer, but that's what you said last time we tried a ritual with the Nemeton," Stiles raised his eyebrows at him, before suddenly grunting as Lydia nudged him in the ribs.

"It will work, Scott," she added, trying to sound reassuring, "we have to believe it will."

"It has to," Malia added, reaching over to squeeze Scott's hand one last time in reassurance. "It will."

He gave her a grateful look as he squeezed her hand back, before turning to Deaton. "Okay, let's do this."

Deaton nodded, gesturing towards the metal table. "Go ahead and lie down."

Scott nodded, jumping up on the cool metal and laying down, eyes closed. Malia still held onto his hand, squeezing tightly, hoping to anchor him during the whole process.

It was almost New Year's Eve, and even though Scott still didn't fully have his memories back, he kept having sporadic dreams, little missing parts of his life coming back to him...but it just wasn't enough. He needed them _all_.

Regardless of his limited memories of Malia, though, they had grown closer over the past week, and it was obvious to Scott now why they had worked so well together.

They fit together, perfectly opposite and yet perfectly complimentary in every way.

"Okay, this may feel incredibly cold, like the whole inside of your body is freezing," Deaton warned as he held up the syringe. "I doubt that it will feel very pleasant, but it shouldn't last long. Just try to lie still."

Scott nodded, eyes still closed, jaw tensing slightly. "Okay. I'm ready."

Deaton took a deep breath, before putting the needle to Scott's arm and pushing in the plunger.

Nothing happened for a moment, and then Scott started screaming in pain, writhing on the table.

"Hold him!" Deaton bellowed, as Stiles and Lydia rushed forwards to hold him on one side, he and Malia on the other.

"What the hell is happening to him?" Stiles yelled out in panic as they tried to hold Scott's thrashing body on the table.

"His body is fighting off the effects," Deaton answered through gritted teeth, "and it's making it even more painful."

"How long is this going to last?" Malia asked urgently, trying to restrain Scott without hurting him, but she was the only other one with supernatural strength, and they wouldn't be able to hold Scott for long. "He can't take much more of this!"

"Neither can we!" Lydia cried struggling to hold one of his legs. "He's too strong!"

Before anyone could say another word, Scott's eyes suddenly opened, flashing bright alpha red, fangs elongated and claws emerging, effectively throwing all four of him off of him at once.

Malia crashed the the floor in a heap, Deaton beside her, as Stiles and Lydia collapsed together on the other side. They couldn't even react in time as Scott rolled off of the table, collapsing to his knees and clutching his head in both hands, still yelling out in agony.

"What do we do?" Stiles asked frantically as they all scrambled to their feet, gathering a safe distance around the writhing werewolf on the floor. "How do we stop this?"

And no sooner had he said those words when everything suddenly stopped.

Scott collapsed to all fours, barely holding himself up on his hands and knees, panting heavily with his head bowed down towards the floor. His claws were notably retracting, sweat dripping off of his body.

They all fell quiet, looking at each other for a moment, before Malia cautiously took a few steps forwards, slowly getting down on her knees and crouching down in front of him on the floor. "...Scott?"

He didn't reply, still breathing heavily, and she could hear his racing heartbeat. With a worried frown, she reached over and gently cupped his chin, tilting his head up to look at her.

Gone was the red, replaced with the soft brown that she loved. "...Malia?"

She smiled sadly. "Yeah, it's me. Are you okay?"

Scott didn't answer for a moment, looking around the room at everyone gathered around him, before slowly nodding. He slowly turned back towards her, a million emotions crossing his face.

She didn't even have time to react as he reached one unsteady hand over to cup the back of her neck before pulling her in for a long, deep kiss.

Malia froze at the shock, before sighing deeply into the kiss and returning it, soft lips pressed against his. After a moment, he pulled back, touching their foreheads together.

"Scott...?" she trailed off, not wanting to get her hopes up, sure that her heart couldn't take it, waiting with baited breath for his reply.

"Malia," his voice was hoarse, eyes shining, "I remember. I remember _everything_."

It was the best belated Christmas present that Malia had ever gotten.

* * *

 ** _Yeah, I'm a sucker for the memory loss trope...so of course I had to work it into this story. Hope it was easier to read as separate chapters! Thoughts?_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_The idea for this one actually came from another discarded Scalia fic of mine, and then it spiraled out of control into one of the longest parts of this series (I was originally determined to keep this whole fic under 10k...ha!). Also, it's good I went back to re-post and edit each part separately, because this one definitely needed some more work, so there's some slight changes here from the original post._**

 ** _Fair warning, the whumpage definitely picks up in this chap for both of our faves! Sorry if that's not your thing (but gratuitous hurt/comfort and angst are what I'm best at writing, honestly.)_**

 ** _So, enjoy?_**

 ** _Fictional_ **

* * *

**THREE-Blue Christmas**

Time stood still. Malia had lost track of the days at this point, all running together in a jumbled mess of blood and pain and torture.

She had no idea how long it'd been since she'd been taken, everything becoming a slow, painful blur, but she knew it must be getting close to Christmas by now.

She just hoped that the others had gotten away during the ambush, that everyone else was okay, that _Scott_ was okay...

Malia figured that he was moving heaven and earth by now, trying to find her, and as much as she fervently dreamed of that moment in between torture by her captors and bouts of unconsciousness, she hoped that he never did.

Because that was the whole point, why the hunters had targeted her specifically in the end, made sure to split them apart strategically so that she was trapped. They wanted to use her against Scott, to make him concede, to just back down, to heel to Monroe and give up this ongoing war.

It'd been too good to be true to hope that after everything with Gerard and the Anuk-Ite that she would just give up and disappear, but Monroe had meticulously spent the last few years establishing a new mindless army to come after all things supernatural.

In answer, Scott had fought back once again, establishing his own supernatural army and determinedly traveling around and gathering up every lone wolf, every stray, to protect them and give them a cause worth fighting for.

So as much as she didn't want to die, desperately wanted to be found...she knew it couldn't happen, because Scott couldn't give up, couldn't just give up everything they'd all fought so hard for, just to save _her_.

With a deep sigh, Malia pulled uselessly at her own bonds laced with wolfsbane, wincing as it further irritated her already chaffed and burned skin from where the bonds were touching her. Even if she was able to break free of the bonds, she was still in a metal cage, lined with mountain ash, and powered with a strong electrical undercurrent.

As much as she had wanted to believe that these hunters were amateurs, new lackeys of Monroe's sent on a mission to prove their worth, she had realized over the past few...or was it several now...days that these hunters weren't amateurs at all.

Monroe had made sure to send her best after them this time. Knowing that now, Malia refused to be downfall of their entire war, their entire fight, and she hoped that Scott would be able to see that too, because even though he loved her, he was still the leader of this whole thing against Monroe, and their cause needed him. The pack _needed_ him.

However, she had a sinking, knowing feeling that when it came to her, Scott wouldn't be rational. Hopefully Argent or Stiles or _someone_ would be able to talk some sense into him, be able to keep him from coming after her, or from heeding to Monroe's demands in return for her life. There were much bigger things at stake here than saving her, even she could see that.

But Scott wasn't easily swayed when it came to protecting the people he loved, so Malia shouldn't have been surprised when only a few days later, the hunters trudged loudly down the stairs into whatever forgotten basement she was being kept in, dragging a new captive behind them.

Malia should have known when she caught glimpse of who her new fellow captive was going to be, but when she saw that it actually was _Scott_ , her heart nearly leapt into her throat.

 _No no nonononono..._

He wasn't supposed to be here, he wasn't supposed to do this, to give himself up for her...

But deep down, Malia had feared, had already known that this was what he would do.

The hunters roughly threw Scott face first into the cage directly across the small, musty basement from her, and he landed with a pained grunt on the cement floor, unable to catch himself from the metal chains binding his hands together. Malia knew it wasn't regular metal, but some type of charmed metal, laced with something that was aversive to werewolves.

Because she was sure that if it wasn't, Scott would have broken free already.

"Try to get comfortable," a large, buff man with a military buzz cut and menacing scar across his face, laughed cruelly as the other men locked up the cage door. "When Monroe gets here, the fun will _really_ start."

"Now Sarge," one of the other men grinned sadistically, turning to face the other man, "don't get their hopes up."

Sarge, the self-appointed leader of this little group, nodded with a matching bloodthirsty grin. "Well, it's going to be fun for us. Not so much for you two," he gestured at first Scott and then Malia with a sneer. "I can't wait to tell Monroe that Christmas came early."

As they headed back towards the stairs, he threw carelessly over his shoulder, "now don't you two go anywhere." The rest of the men to burst into cruel laughter at his taunting as they all disappeared upstairs.

As soon as they were alone, Malia caught Scott's gaze across the room as he scrambled to his feet, hands still bound. She could see the palpable relief on his face at seeing that she was okay, that she was still alive, but his eyes were still scanning over every part of her, as if he really couldn't believe it. "Malia...are you okay?"

Malia sighed heavily, with a shake of her head. Her voice was a mix of both disbelief, anger, and relief when she spoke. "You shouldn't be here."

He held her gaze steadily as he replied, not a hint of remorse in his words. "It was the only way to find you."

"Scott," she huffed indignantly, "I'm not even going to ask, because I already know you did something incredibly stupid and turned yourself in to Monroe's men."

He didn't offer a counter argument her insinuation, but the look in his eyes said it all.

Malia felt herself growing more angry, but it was only because she was afraid of what would happen to him now, what would happen to the rest of the pack, to their battle against Monroe, because he had made such a careless decision. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"That I had to do whatever it took," Scott's voice was heavy, quieter now, "to save you, Malia."

She sighed heavily, her tone softening now, because she had known that he would, and knew that if the roles were reversed, she'd do the same for him, but that didn't make their situation any better. "But what about the others? The pack? They _need_ you, Scott. They can't win this thing against Monroe without you!"

"And we need you, Malia," he replied quietly, but she could hear the conviction in his tone. " _I_ need you. And there's no way we were going to let you go without a fight."

Malia swallowed thickly at that, pushing down the overwhelming emotions that she suddenly felt at his words. She cleared her throat before she continued. "Okay, well, please tell me that you have a plan at least."

He gave her a small smile. "It's a long shot, but Argent is on my trail. He might be able to find us before Monroe gets here..."

She frowned as he trailed off, his smile falling. She was hesitant as she asked him the heavy, unspoken question hovering in the space between them.

"...and if he doesn't?"

Scott sighed heavily, a serious look on his face. "Then we're on our own."

* * *

Another day went by without any sign of their captors, or Argent and the pack, but Scott and Malia both knew that time was running out.

As soon as Monroe arrived, it would be game over for both of them. Malia knew that Monroe wanted nothing more than to kill Scott, to make a point to the rest of the pack and all of their allies that she was winning the war, and that she had easily taken down the True Alpha and was coming after all of them _next_.

Malia figured she would just be used as some sort of device to get Scott not to fight back, and she vehemently refused to be the reason he got himself killed.

She looked across the room at him, as he pulled against the restraints on his wrists to no avail, jaw clenched and muscles flexing as he pulled with all his might. He paused, making a frustrated noise, panting heavily from the exertion. Whatever the metal was laced with, it was incredibly strong, even for an alpha werewolf.

"There's no point," Malia sighed with a shake of her head. "Might as well save your strength."

Scott's head snapped up to meet her gaze and he narrowed his eyes at her, before shaking his head and tugging yet again at his restraints to no avail. "We can't stop trying, Malia."

The truth was that they had both been trying to break free since they had been taken by Monroe's men, but Malia had had a lot more practice at this point to know that it was useless. They had to take into consideration the fact that these hunters both outnumbered all of them _and_ had new weapons against supernatural creatures that even Argent hadn't heard of. These hunters were prepared to take them down once and for all, seamlessly it seemed.

In short, they were in big trouble, and unless Argent and the rest of the pack found them soon...then they weren't going to make it out of this one. They knew that the only reason that the hunters _hadn't_ killed them yet was because they were waiting for Monroe to arrive, because she wanted to pleasure of killing them herself.

"No, but we also need to be realistic," Malia huffed, shoulders slumping. "We're not getting out of this one."

"Yes, we are," Scott replied through gritted teeth as he fought against his restraints again, still refusing to give up hope. She had always been the realist of the pack where Scott was somehow the never quitting optimist, even with everything they'd been through over the years. That's what made him a good leader and a good Alpha, even in the face of defeat, and it was just one of the many things she loved about him...he never gave up.

"We're not going to die, Malia."

She sighed at his words, just looking over at him, not saying anything for a moment as Scott continued to try and find a way to get free. After a few minutes, he gave up and stopped pulling against the restraints, looking back up at her again, determination still etched across his face despite making no progress on their escape.

"Argent will find a way to stop them and the pack will find a way to rescue us. They won't stop until they find us," he said with conviction, putting on a brave face. She knew he was worried too, but he couldn't admit it now. That would be as certain as giving up.

But he had also turned himself over like a sacrifical lamb, so she knew deep down that Scott already knew how this was going to end, knew what he had signed himself up for, but he still was determined to save her, at least.

"But not in time," she tried not to sound too flippant about it. She didn't _want_ to die, but she knew what their odds were, and in her experience it was always better to be prepared for the worst. She had figured since the moment she'd been taken that it was all over for her, but that was before Scott had foolishly thrown himself into harm's way to join her. Now she had to worry about _both_ of them. "Monroe could be here any minute. They'll never find us in time."

Scott looked at her seriously then, his eyes flashing red with his intensity. "Malia, I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

Malia tried to ignore the sudden fluttering in her chest at his words, blinking rapidly to hold back her emotions as her eyes inadvertently flashed blue in response.

"Scott, I appreciate the thought, I really do," she finally replied, "but don't make promises you can't keep." She sighed, pulling at her own binds again with a growl of frustration, both at their situation and at Scott for making such a reckless decision.

"Which is why you shouldn't have done something so stupid and turned yourself over to them in the first place."

"Well, it doesn't matter, because I'm here now, and I _won't_ let them hurt you," he insisted, still giving her that intense gaze that made her shiver involuntarily, which in turn made her internally hate herself. She was a strong fighter, and always had been, but something about how protective Scott always was over her made her feel loved, and safe, and gave her hope of winning when there shouldn't have been any.

But at the same time, she didn't want him making anymore reckless decisions to save her than he _already_ had.

"I don't need you to protect me," she suddenly shot back, before realizing how harshly it had come out until she saw the chagrined look on his face.

"I know you can take care of yourself, Malia," he replied quietly. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to keep you safe. I _have_ to."

Well, of course. That was why he was here now in this predicament with her, after all, because he had been desperate enough to try and save her, even knowing it was a suicide mission.

"Yeah, I know," she sighed, softening her tone. "What I mean is, I don't think it's going to matter really. You can't stop them like this, as much as you want to."

"Well," Scott replied seriously, "I'm the Alpha. I'm the leader of this whole movement against Monroe. I'm the one they really want. I might be able to convince them to let you go, if I don't fight against them. If I promise to just give in and do what they want."

"Scott, no way, are you crazy?" Malia looked at him incredulously. "You can't just lie down and take it! You have to fight back, if you get the chance."

"Not if it saves you," he shrugged matter-of-factly, giving her that patented Scott McCall look that she had seen way too often, especially since they had been together.

The look that said, _I'm going to do whatever it takes to save you, even if it kills me._

"No, no you're not," she shook her head vehemently at him. "And even if they did let me go, which I highly doubt they will anyways, I'm not just going to _leave_ you here!"

"Malia, you have to," he said firmly but softly. "If you get the chance to get away, you have to take it. Promise me that you'll go."

"Scott, I _can't_ ," Malia argued, trying to make him understand. "I won't do that. If I leave...they'll kill you."

Scott sighed heavily, giving her a pained look. "Malia, they're going to kill me anyways."

"Wait, wait, wait," she scowled at him now, "then what was all that talk just now about how _we_ are not going to die? I'm pretty sure that means _both_ of us."

He nodded slowly at that. "I know. But the whole reason they took you was to get to me, so maybe we can use that to our advantage. If it comes down to it, they'll probably try to take me down first, and if we can use that as a distraction for you to get free, then we have to take it."

"No, no way," Malia disagreed firmly, "absolutely not. Why would you even think that was an option?"

"Because I have to do whatever I can to save you. I _can't_ let you get hurt." He paused, looking down at the cement floor in the darkened room for a long moment before looking back up at her, and the serious look he gave her took her breath away.

"I couldn't take it if something happened to you, Malia."

She swallowed thickly at his words, unable to speak for several moments as she tried to gather her reeling emotions. She couldn't lose him either, because she was certain that she wouldn't survive it.

"And I couldn't take it if something happened to you, Scott," she finally replied, trying to sound braver behind her words than she felt, watching all of the conflicted emotions crossing his face. "So don't even think for one second that I would actually leave you behind."

A heavy silence fell between them, the seriousness of the situation crushing them both, until Malia couldn't take it anymore, determined now that they were going to make it out of this.

They _had_ to.

"So now that that's established, what do you say we break the hell out of here and hand these hunters their asses?"

Scott actually chuckled at that, unable to stop the grin that spread across his face at her words. "Okay, okay, deal. Just one problem...how do you propose we do that exactly?"

Malia was smirking now as she shook her head. "I don't know yet. But I'm working on a plan." She paused, tugging uselessly at her bonds again. "One that saves _both_ of us."

* * *

After days of no interaction with their captors, the hunters finally decided it was time to make them talk.

"Well, since Monroe will be here tonight," Sarge grinned cruelly at them as the hunters came into the room, "we thought we'd make sure you guys were ready to welcome her."

Malia swallowed thickly at that, because she knew that things were about to get _violent_.

"So let's start with this: where is the rest of your pack?" Sarge asked coolly, as two men dressed fully in tactical gear roughly dragged Scott out of his cell and handcuffed him to a metal chair. It was obvious to Malia that the cuffs were also bound with wolfsbane or maybe something stronger from the pained look on his face when they were put on. Five other hunters stood around him, military grade guns full of wolfsbane-laced bullets all aimed directly at his head. Scott stared angrily back at them, determined not to appear afraid.

Malia couldn't help the low growl that escaped her throat from her cage across the room, seeing Scott in danger and not being able to do anything about it. She _hated_ it.

"I don't know," Scott answered honestly, not that he would have given up their location even if he did know. "I don't know where they are."

"Let's try this again," Sarge said, casually cracking his knuckles, before picking up some metal rings sitting on the table behind him and sliding them on his fingers. Without another word, he punched Scott directly across the face with a sickening crunch. His head bobbed violently to the side from the impact, and he spilt out a glob of blood as he turned back to his tormentor, his eyes flashing an angry Alpha red now.

"Now answer me, mutt. Where are they?"

Scott glowered at Sarge even as he towered over him, eyes still red. "I told you, I don't know."

"Trying to play tough guy, are we?" Sarge scoffed, shaking his head. "You dumb animals just don't know when to quit."

With an almost bored look, he picked up an electrical prod from the table behind him, as some of the other hunters smirked when they saw what was coming. Scott swallowed thickly as he eyed it, because he knew from experience how much _that_ was going to hurt.

Malia felt her heart leap out of her chest as she had vivid flashbacks of Scott being struck with one of those in Mexico all those years ago.

It wouldn't kill him...hopefully. But it was going to hurt.

"I'm sure your familiar with one of these," Sarge smirked, seeing Scott's eyes widen in recognition, "but what you don't know is that these are our own special brand. We've had a little time to come up with our own models during this war." He came closer to Scott, looking proudly at the prod in his hand.

"This baby is a little extra turbo-charged, if you will. Enough volts in one of these bad boys to kill a werewolf, even a _True Alpha_ ," he spit the name in disgust, "with one hit."

Malia's heartbeat quickened in fear, and she pulled against her restraints uselessly once again.

 _Scott!_

Sarge strode back towards Scott, jamming the prod against his chest forcefully, his finger hovering over the trigger. "Okay, one more time, dog...where is your pack?"

Scott held his stare forcefully, but his shoulders sagged in defeat because he knew what was coming. "I already told you...I. Don't. Know."

Sarge scoffed, already unamused with the interrogation, and without another word, hit the switch.

Scott's cries of pain filled the small, musty room as his entire body shook with the force of the electricity passing through his body.

"Hey! Stop it!" Malia yelled angrily, beating her bound hands uselessly against the mountain ash enforced bars, not even noticing when her hands came away red and raw from touching them. "No, stop it you idiots! You'll kill him!"

After what felt like an eternity, Sarge finally stepped back, and Scott sagged against the chair, breathing heavily from the pain and the exertion to heal against the super powered prod. With an evil gleam in his eye, Sarge turned around for the first time to face Malia across the room in her cell.

"You better watch your mouth," he snarled at her, waving the prod in her direction, "or you'll be next."

"Don't touch her," Scott growled suddenly, picking his head back up with notable effort.

"Ah, yes, protective of your little pack, aren't you?" Sarge sneered in Scott's direction. He gave Malia a long, leering look before he continued. "And I could see why you'd be _especially_ protective of this one. I mean, that's why you stupidly let us catch you, isn't it? To get to _her_."

Scott snarled viciously at him again, eyes back to red and fangs emerging now. One of the other hunters stepped forward, placing the barrel of his rifle directly against Scott's temple.

"I'd take it easy there, wolf," Sarge grinned sadistically, "because even with your super special healing, a wolfsbane bullet directly to the brain is something even you can't heal from."

"We already told you, we don't know where the others are," Malia cut in quickly, trying to deflect their attention away from Scott. "If we did, they would be here right now, saving us and kicking your asses, don't you think?"

"You've sure got quite a mouth on you, little bitch," Sarge snapped his head up look at her again, and Malia shrunk back away from the bars slightly at the terrifying look he gave her. "Maybe you need to learn when to shut up."

"Stay away from her," Scott snarled angrily, pulling futilely against his restraints, only for the hunter next to him to click off the safety of his gun, pressing it harder against his temple.

"Scott, don't," Malia warned, looking at him with worried eyes. She could see his worry for her reflected back in his own. The last thing she needed was for him to get himself killed trying to protect her, and she had been determined since the moment he had been put in the cell across from her to keep him alive, at all costs. "I'm okay."

Sarge just looked back and forth between them with amusement, as if a new idea had just struck him. "Well, wolf, if you won't talk, maybe your bitch will. Besides, Monroe wants the joy of killing _you_ herself."

He paused, grinning sadistically. "But she didn't say anything about her."

"No! Leave her alone!" Scott shouted furiously, as Sarge strode purposefully over to Malia's cell and swung open the door. She snarled viciously at him, eyes flashing blue and fangs and claws emerging on instinct.

"I wouldn't do that, sweetheart, if you don't want your boyfriend over there to get a nice hole in his head," Sarge looked at her coolly, gesturing to his minion still aiming the gun directly at Scott's head.

Malia growled again angrily, but she wouldn't do anything to get Scott hurt. She'd gladly sacrifice herself to keep him alive, had been ready to do that all along even _before_ Scott had turned himself in to find her. With great effort, she retracted her werecoyote features with a shake of her head, looking back at Sarge hatefully, but human once again.

"That's better," he gave her a menacing smile, roughly grabbing her arm and pulling her out of the cell.

Scott made to pull against his restraints again, even with the gun still aimed at his temple by the other hunter, but Malia gave him another warning look not to fight, and he hesitated, understanding that he had to get himself under control before they were _both_ killed.

There was still time, if Argent and the pack could find them before Monroe arrived...

But their hope was dwindling by the second.

Sarge dragged her to the center of the room, directly underneath a thick, metal bar that ran horizontally along the rusted ceiling. He took another pair of werewolf-proof handcuffs and attached her to the bar, her arms stretched painfully above her towards the ceiling while her toes just barely touched the floor.

"Ok, now," he turned to look back at Scott, "here's how this is going to go. You answer my questions, she doesn't get hurt. You don't answer my questions, well..." he gestured with his hand towards the table he had gotten the prod from, laden with more supernatural torture devices.

"Leave her out of this," Scott demanded, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice and failing. "I'm the one you really want, so just let her go, and I'll do whatever you want. I won't fight back, I swear, if you don't hurt her."

"Scott," Malia protested, making eye contact with him and trying to convey her thoughts to him across the room.

 _I won't leave without you. No matter what._

"That's all true, but we're not just going to let her walk out of here. Or your pack. As soon as we're done with the two of you, they're next. And then the rest of your pathetic allies," Sarge laughed, shaking his head in sick amusement. "It's cute, really, how you thought you could really win this war. You're just an animal. You had no chance against Monroe and her movement, and what we stand for. You _never_ did."

"But," he continued, with fake sincerity, "you can make it easier for yourselves by telling us what we want to know, and we'll try not to make your deaths too painful. Small mercies, if you will."

"That's real generous," Malia spat, unable to contain her anger, even though she knew how stupid it was to antagonize the man who was about to torture her. "But even if you kill us, you'll never win. Our pack will never stop fighting, no matter what. You idiots have _no_ chance."

"I thought I told you to shut up," Sarge turned back to her with a swift ferocity, punching her directly in the stomach with the metal knuckles. Malia let out a cry of pain as all the wind was knocked out of her, her shoulders straining as she swung back and forth from the ceiling from the force of the blow.

"Stop it! Don't hurt her!" Scott was pulling frantically against the metal chair now, his wrists dripping blood now from how hard he was pulling against the cuffs. "It's me you want, not her. Leave her out of this!"

"Sergio," Sarge gave a quick look at the man still holding the gun against Scott's temple, and with a short nod of understanding, the man moved the gun and shot Scott right through the shoulder. He couldn't hold back a groan of pain as the bullet tore through his body, slumping back against the chair from the force of the impact.

"Scott!" Malia rasped out, regaining her breath and struggling uselessly against her restraints. "Stop! Don't hurt him!"

"Well, well, ready to cooperate now?" Sarge looked back and forth between them, getting some sick satisfaction from using them against each other. He picked up the prod again, and jammed it against Malia's stomach from where she was still dangling from the ceiling. Her wide eyes found Scott's, and through the haze of pain she could see there, she saw even more worry for her.

"I'll do whatever you want," Scott gritted out between his teeth, in obvious pain as blood dripped steadily from his shoulder, soaking the front of his shirt now, "as long as you don't hurt her. Please."

"Then answer the question. Where is your pack? What is their next move?" Sarge demanded once again.

"They're coming for us," Malia suddenly interrupted, drawing his attention back to her, and away from Scott, desperate to buy them some time. "They're coming to get us back."

"I didn't ask you a question," Sarge sneered cruelly at her, suddenly hitting the switch on the prod and sending electricity coursing through her body.

Try as she might, Malia wasn't prepared for _how_ much it was going to hurt, and she couldn't hold back her cries of pain.

It was excruciating.

"Stop! No, don't touch her, you bastards!"

She could hear Scott distantly yelling through the haze of pain. It went on and on and _on_. He was going to kill her, right in front of Scott, she was sure of it.

Then finally...it stopped.

She hung limply, only semi-conscious now, her body twitching from the amount of electricity she had endured. Those were no ordinary prods. They were designed to _kill_ werewolves.

"One more hit like that, and she's dead," Sarge turned back to face Scott as he was still desperately struggling against his bonds. "Especially with a little extra wolfsbane in her system."

Without warning, he picked up a long dagger from the table, and Malia could smell the wolfsbane on it long before she felt it. He made a deep slice into her side, and she grunted in pain as she felt the poison leeching into her body.

Super healing or not, these hunters had more advanced tools then they had ever seen, more potent wolfsbane and more high powered weapons, specifically for their kind. There was no way they were going to survive this, Scott's unwavering optimism be damned.

Although, when she finally had the strength to pick her head back up and look at him, he looked anything but optimistic now. He looked completely terrified, but not for himself.

For _her_.

"Malia, are you okay?" he asked softly, ignoring the hunters surrouding them in the room.

"Yeah, yeah Scott," Malia forced a fake smile at him though the pain, although he could see right through it, "I'm okay. Are you okay?"

He nodded slowly, although she could clearly see his shoulder wasn't healing from whatever had been in the bullet, and he was losing a lot of blood from the wound. But they had to focus on trying to survive this first, of getting out of here, and then worry about their wounds later.

"Real touching, but I'm losing my patience here," Sarge cut into their moment. "So here it is. You answer my question, or I kill her right now. She won't survive another hit with this thing, not with that type of wolfsbane in her system too," he waved the prod around in his hand.

"You don't need to hurt her, she doesn't know anything," Scott protested, trying to convince them even though they both knew it was fruitless. "Torture me, I won't fight you. I'll even call off my pack, and our allies, tell them not to fight you anymore, if you just leave her alone. If you let her go."

"Then where is your pack? And your allies?" he ignored Scott's plea, holding the prod against Malia again. "Where are they going to strike next?"

She froze, holding her breath and waiting for the inevitable pain that would come.

"She's right, they're coming for us," Scott replied carefully, eyeing the prod against her with concern. "They're on their way to get us right now."

"Not good enough," Sarge replied shortly, before turning the prod on against Malia without hesitation.

The pain was completely blinding this time against her already weakened system, and she was sure her heart was going to stop. She fought a losing battle with consciousness as the electricity coursed through every fiber of her body relentlessly. Somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard Scott's deafening roar, his _True Alpha_ roar, but it was hard to make out anything through her overwhelmed senses.

The next thing she knew, she was vaguely aware of multiple gunshots firing around the room and the shouts of anger and fear from the hunters around them.

Then suddenly, the electricity stopped. She struggled to suck in a large inhale, to catch her breath as feeling slowly came back to her body.

With considerable effort, she pried open her eyes to see Scott _somehow_ free from his cuffs now, out of the chair and fighting all six hunters on his own. It was a losing battle, but for the moment their attention was away from her.

But they were going to kill him, even as he dodged and weaved their bullets as fast as he could, swinging around to knock out one hunter and put another one between him and a barrage of bullets. He was outnumbered, and tiring quickly, already struggling against his earlier injuries.

Malia growled in frustration and worry. She needed to get free somehow so that she could help him. She couldn't let him fight on his own, she _wouldn't_.

Using all of her strength, she pulled herself up towards the ceiling, her fingers finally catching hold of the metal bar she was suspended from. She tried vainly to pull back, to either break the cuffs or the bar, but the wolfsbane in her system coupled with the aftershocks of nearly being electrocuted to death were making it nearly impossible, all of her super strength zapped.

Then Scott let out a howl of pain as another bullet grazed him, and Malia knew he was in trouble, that he was losing against all of the hunters on his own, but that he would fight them to the death if it meant giving her a chance to get away.

She couldn't let that happen.

With new found strength from somewhere deep within herself, eyes flashing and claws emerging once again, Malia scooted herself heavily down along the length of the metal pole, her cuffs scrapping against the cool metal, until she found what seemed like a relative weak spot.

And then she _pulled_ , as hard as she could, giving it everything she had.

The metal beam gave, just enough that she could pull her cuffed hands free from the ceiling. With a ferocious snarl, she headed into the chaos to help Scott, wrapping her still cuffed hands around one hunter's neck and choking him out with the chain.

 _Three down, three to go._

With her still linked hands, she wrapped the handcuff chain around the offending rifle barrel pointed in her direction by the next hunter, effectively yanking it out of his hands with a sharp pull, before landing both of her joined fists directly into his astonished face.

 _Two left._

She looked quickly over at Scott then, and in that moment, her heart stopped.

Scott was taking on the remaining hunter and Sarge on his own, but he was tiring quickly, from a combination of all of his earlier injuries, his movements becoming even more sluggish. Malia watched in horror as Sarge stumbled back from a hard blow from Scott, and pretended to be down for the count as Scott turned to face the last hunter standing.

That's when Sarge, too vicious and evil to just go down that easily, rolled back over, his gun aimed directly at Scott's back from the floor.

Malia didn't think, didn't hesitate, her body on autopilot, because she knew what she had to do.

She had to save him.

She threw herself at Scott, tackling him hard to the ground, just as the gun went off.

It was weird, she thought distantly to herself as they tumbled to the hard cement floor, that it should hurt more, taking a direct hit with a bullet full of wolfsbane, way too close to her heart...but it didn't.

Everything was blissfully numb.

The world was swimming, fading in and out around her, but she could hear Scott shouting at her, as if in the distance, but he seemed farther and farther away.

Malia blinked up at him, at his panicked face hovering over hers, but she couldn't respond, and she tried to give him a weak smile, wishing he could read her thoughts.

 _It's okay._

Her eyelids were so heavy now, and she stopped fighting the pull, even as she could hear Scott's broken voice desperately pleading to her in the distance.

 _"Malia, no, hey! Just hang on, okay, you have to hang on! Malia, no...please..."_

She felt the tug of darkness, pulling her back, further away from him, but she didn't regret giving her life for his.

Scott was alive, and he could keep fighting, could win this damn war and protect everyone and everything they cared about, and might actually have the chance to live his life, maybe even finish college...and she couldn't have any regrets about that.

As reality faded into nothing, she swore she could hear more fighting in the distance, or more gunshots, but everything was hazy. It was eerie, because she couldn't really make out anything clearly now, but she could have sworn she heard Argent, or Stiles, or even Lydia screaming...

But that just had to be her last throes of hope as she faded away into nothing, because there was just no way they could really be there...

And then the world went black.

* * *

Malia didn't know where she was.

Awareness was coming back to her slowly in broken bits and pieces, and her body felt heavy, her mind swimming in a deep fog.

She fought to open her eyes, but her body just didn't want to cooperate, and she felt panic building in her chest as her jumbled memories suddenly started coming back to her in a rush.

 _The hunters. Fighting to escape. Pushing Scott out of the way. Taking a bullet..._

With a new surge of energy, she slowly pried open her heavy eyelids, blinking groggily in an effort to focus her still blurred vision.

As the world slowly came back, Malia realized she was in one of the back rooms at Deaton's clinic, which had been turned into a sort of makeshift hospital room for the supernatural out of necessity over the years.

She winced at the bright lights directly above, before turning her head slightly to see Scott in a chair right next to her, fast asleep. He had his head propped forward onto the side of the bed next to her, nestled on the crook of his elbow, his fingers tightly interlaced with hers.

Malia frowned when she noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the evident lines of stress and worry on his face even as he slept, and she could easily guess from his haggard appearance that he hadn't been sleeping much at all.

She let out a small sigh of relief that despite looking exhausted, he didn't appear to have any other injuries, and she figured that he must have already healed from being shot during the fight.

From what little she could remember, hers had been a more mortal wound, a nearly direct hit to her heart, and really she was genuinely surprised that she was _even_ alive.

She made a move to squeeze his hand, but was surprised by how much even the small movement caused pain to flare sharply throughout her entire body. She was unable to suppress a small groan that involuntarily escaped, which made Scott shoot up instantly from his sleeping position, worried eyes quickly finding her face.

"...Malia?" he asked, and his voice was simultaneously so full of hope and fear that it made her heart clench, as a thousand different emotions crossed his face.

"Hi," she whispered, her voice dry and rough from not being used, and Scott sagged against the bed in relief, reaching his hand forward to gently cup her cheek.

"Thank God," he croaked, eyes shining with unshed tears, "I was so scared, Malia, that you, that you wouldn't..."

He trailed off with a shake of his head, unable to continue, and she squeezed his hand again.

"Can't get rid of me that easily," she murmured hoarsely, giving him what she hoped was a grin, even though it felt more like a grimace.

"How do you feel?" he asked gently, eyes carefully searching her face.

She shrugged, unable to hide the wince at the unexpected pain the movement caused. "Uh, it's not that bad..."

At the doubtful look he gave her, she sighed, starting over. "Okay, I'm definitely sore...but not that bad, all things considered." She glanced down at their joined hands, and she was sure Scott had been pulling her pain most of the time she was unconscious. "But I'm guessing that's thanks to you."

He just gave a stiff nod in reply as he tightly squeezed her hand again, like it was a lifeline keeping her there with him. She raised an eyebrow at him curiously, because she didn't really remember anything after she had pushed him out of the line of fire.

"So...what happened?"

"Well, do you mean after Argent and the pack found us," Scott exhaled shakily, leveling her with a serious look now, "or do you mean after you saved my life?"

Malia held his gaze steadily, because faced with the same choice, she would do the same thing over and over again if it meant she could keep him safe. "I had to, Scott."

His expression suddenly became a mixture of anger and guilt, and he shook his head vehemently. "Are you serious? You almost _died_ , Malia, do you get that? You almost died trying to save me, and..."

"And what?" she cut him off, giving him a defiant look, even from her weakened state in the bed. "I couldn't just let you die, Scott."

"And I can't let you die!" he stood up suddenly, hovering over the bed now, his voice cracking as he looked down at her. "Especially to protect me. You don't understand, I _can't_ lose you, Malia..."

"You didn't," she said gently, seeing how upset he was getting, trying to bring him back, "and you won't. You won't lose me, okay? I'm sorry that I scared you, but I did it...because I can't lose you either."

"I know, I know, it's just," he shook his head, trying to gather himself, "I almost lost you, and I don't know what I would have done. How could you even think that jumping in front of a gun was a good idea?"

"Okay, it may not have been my best decision," Malia replied, pausing for a moment to catch her breath, "but I don't regret it. Come on, you _know_ why I did it. And you know you'd do the same for me."

"I know, I _do_ know that Malia," he took a deep breath, slowly calming down, his expression softening, "just, just promise me that you'll never do something like that again. Promise me that you won't get hurt trying to protect me."

"Scott," she managed a small smile at him, "you know I can't promise you that. Just like you can't promise me that."

He sighed heavily, because he _did_ know that, and he knew it was a losing argument, a double standard that she'd never let him win, because she was just as fiercely protective of him as he was of her.

He leaned down to kiss her gently. "So stubborn," he muttered softly against her lips.

She couldn't help the playful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth as he pulled back. "That's why you love me."

"That's just one reason," he actually snorted at that, unable to suppress a smile at her words as he finally sank back down into the chair. "I'm just really glad you're okay."

"Me too," Malia sighed lightly at that, before her brows furrowed as she suddenly realized something. "Wait a minute...how long have I been out? What day is it?"

Scott hesitated for a moment before answering. "It's, uh, a couple of days after Christmas."

She groaned, but this time it had nothing to do with her pain. "Seriously? We missed it again?"

"It's okay," he reached over to squeeze her hand again reassuringly, "now that you're awake, we'll have plenty of time to make up for it."

Malia sighed, sinking back against the bed, gripping his hand back in return. "We better."

* * *

 ** _This part was one of my favorites to write out of this whole story...which is probably why it ended up being one of the longest. Scott and Malia being protective and worried about each other is my aesthetic!_**

 ** _So, which part is the best so far? Three more to re-post!_**


	4. Chapter 4

**FOUR-I'll Be Home For Christmas**

 _ **For anyone still reading, sorry for the delay in reposting! This chapter is the shortest one in the series, so I have no excuse other than holiday travel.**_

 _ **Also, major shout-out to indigoibex, who sent me a lovely message about being inspired by part two of this story (the one where Scott loses his memory) to make a vid loosely based off of that. SO cool, and definitely the best kind of compliment! Thanks my friend! The video is amaze, so if you haven't, check it out! It's at Indigo Ibex on YouTube.**_

 _ **Fictional**_

* * *

 _"Malia...we have a problem."_

She couldn't help it, replaying Stiles' words over and over again in her head. She sighed as she rested her head heavily against the cool window pane of the airplane, staring blankly out at the runway below as they taxied away.

Scott was missing.

He'd been missing for a week now, and they had no idea where he was or what had happened to him, after a mission gone wrong in Europe to save some innocent werewolf refugees and gain more allies. Monroe's army had been closing in on them, stronger than they'd ever been before, and Scott had known he'd had to go.

She could vividly remember their conversation before he'd left for France with Argent, only two weeks before Christmas, when she'd told him not to go.

"Malia, I have to," he had reassured her softly, taking her into his arms. "You know I have to do this."

"I get that," she had sighed, shaking her head, "but why does it have to be _you_? Let Argent handle it, or Isaac, or even Jackson or Ethan. They're all already over there anyways, so just let them take care of it."

He cupped her cheek, looking at her seriously as they spoke. "I know, but this whole thing is my responsibility. They need me."

"But we need you _here_ ," she frowned at him. Usually Lydia was the one with the premonitions, but she had just had a bad feeling about the whole thing. "Scott, I'm serious...don't go."

He sighed heavily, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's not that simple. This might be our chance to end this whole thing, to finally get our lives back. I have to go, Malia."

She nodded, biting her lower lip, knowing it was true. Scott had taken the last semester off of school from U.C. Davis, as the war with Monroe and her mindless soldiers had reached an all time high, and Scott was too busy playing general of the supernatural side to even think of having a normal life anymore. Malia hated that this is what their lives had come to, and she knew that if Scott even thought there was a _chance_ of ending this thing once and for all, he was going to take it.

"Okay, okay, just," she cupped his face between her hands now, holding his gaze steadily, "promise me you'll be careful."

"Always am," he murmured as his lips met hers softly. He pulled back, trying to give her a reassuring look. "I'll be back soon. Promise."

That had been ten days ago. Six days ago, Stiles had called and broken the news to her after he'd heard it from Argent.

The rescue mission had gone terribly, _horribly_ wrong, the hunters surrounding them at every turn, and Argent and the others had lost track of Scott in all of the chaos as they saved the supernatural refugees, because Scott had been determined that not _one_ of them be left behind.

The only reassurance they'd had that he was still alive was that Lydia hadn't felt him die, claimed that she would know without out a doubt if he was gone, and Malia clung to that last hope desperately.

She felt a gentle nudge at her side then, and turned in her small airplane seat to see Lydia looking over at her carefully.

"You okay?" she asked softly, eyes shining with concern.

Malia nodded, lips pressed tightly together. "Yeah. I just want to get there."

"Me too," Stiles sighed heavily from his aisle seat on the other side of Lydia. "All this waiting is driving me crazy."

After six days of Argent, Isaac, and their allies having no luck locating Scott, the three of them had decided to take matters into their own hands, flying to France to join the others in the search for their missing Alpha.

Malia was silently grateful for their company, knowing they were as worried for Scott as she was, and that Stiles had pulled in some FBI favors between himself and Scott's dad to help in the search.

The only way they'd been able to keep Melissa and Liam and the rest from joining them is that they still needed part of the pack back home, in case anything else happened, or if Scott managed to contact them somehow.

They'd _barely_ been able to convince Melissa of that, desperate to find her son, but in the end she'd realized that the best thing she could do was make sure everything was okay in Beacon Hills until Scott was found.

"He's still alive," Lydia squeezed her arm reassuringly, giving her a knowing look, because she _did_ know that. "There's still hope."

"And we're going to find him," Stiles added determinedly, although she wasn't sure if that was more for her benefit or for his own, "we'll find him, and trust me I am going to ream him out for being such a heroic idiot, just like I do every time he does something heroic _and_ idiotic...but we'll find him, and he's going to be fine."

Malia faked a small smile, wanting so badly to believe his words, but she couldn't help fearing that any minute Lydia was going to _scream_ , and her entire world would come to an end.

As the plane finally took off into the air, Malia closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

 _Scott...where are you?_

* * *

Malia had always wanted to go to Paris, ever since that failed trip after high school, but not like this.

 _Never_ like this.

They'd been so busy tearing apart the city and the surrounding suburbs looking for Scott, that they'd hadn't even gotten to enjoy Christmas in the city of light.

It was just a painful reminder of yet another Christmas that she and Scott had missed together, and she was beginning to wonder if there was some sort of a sick pattern.

In the days since they'd arrived in France, they'd been on the move nonstop, desperate to find any clues as to Scott's whereabouts.

Thankfully, it didn't seem like Monroe's men had him either, but that only led them to another dead end.

 _So where was he?_

Lydia was still adamant that he was alive, and that was the one saving grace they had to go on, the only thing still giving them all hope.

Malia sighed, rubbing her arms against the cold winter air as she stood out on the balcony of their hotel room, staring mournfully out at the Eiffel Tower in the distance, shining under the light of the full moon. In her current state of distress, it was taking all of her concentration not to shift, to stay human, and she had been grateful when the others hadn't followed her out onto the balcony, knowing she wanted to be alone.

It was late on New Year's Eve, but none of them felt like celebrating now. Not until they found Scott.

She heard the balcony door slowly open and close behind her, and she sighed, not bothering to turn around and address whoever it was. "I told you guys, I'm fine. I just need some time alone."

She was completely unprepared for the achingly familiar voice behind her.

"Malia."

She wheeled around, already knowing who it was before she saw him, the voice and the familiar scent she knew better than anyone's already assaulting her senses before she even saw him.

Scott stood in the doorway, leaning heavily against it for balance. He was battered and beaten, clothes tattered and covered in blood that was only _partially_ his. He looked completely exhausted, and he was in obvious pain from the way he moved, but even through all of that, his easy, familiar smile was aimed directly at her.

Malia had never seen anything more beautiful in her entire life.

She choked on her words, unable to get them out, and just turned and flew directly into his arms instead. He caught her with a pained grunt, wrapping his arms tightly around her as she buried her face into his chest, hot tears stinging her cheeks.

"It's okay, Malia," he whispered hoarsely into her hair, holding her close, "I'm okay."

"Scott," she finally rasped out, pulling back to look at him through her tears of shock and relief, "you're okay? Where have you been? What the _hell_ happened?"

"It's a long story," he sighed heavily, still holding her close to him. "After the mission went wrong, I created a diversion, but then I was trapped and I couldn't find a way out. Her men were everywhere, so I had to make Monroe think that I was dead, because that's the only way I could get away, and the only way we'll be able to catch her by surprise when we make our next move."

He paused, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "That's what took me so long to get back, and why I couldn't contact any of you. I'm sorry."

Malia nodded slowly, understanding why he hadn't been able to get to them sooner, to let them know that he was okay, but that didn't make it any easier.

"We've been going crazy, trying to find you, trying to find you before Monroe's men did, trying to figure out what happened. We looked _everywhere_ ," she replied, wiping her wet eyes carelessly with the back of her hand, "and the only reason we knew that you were, that you weren't..."

"Lydia?" he interjected gently as she struggled with the words. At her nod, he sighed again, squeezing her close. "That's what I was hoping, so at least you would know that I was still alive. I'm sorry Malia, I didn't mean to worry all of you, but there was just no way for me to..."

Malia cut him off quickly with a long, hard kiss on the lips, and he melted into her touch. She finally pulled back, her voice soft. "I know, and I don't care why. I get it. I'm just glad you're okay."

He smiled, and even through all the blood and grime, she'd know that smile everywhere. "I promised you that I would come back."

She cocked an eyebrow at him doubtfully. "I told you not to go in the first place."

"Yeah, right," he sighed, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone. "Remind me next time to always listen to you."

She couldn't help but laugh at that with a shake of her head. "Trust me, I will."

Scott chuckled, burying his face in her hair again and breathing in deeply. "I've missed this."

"Me too," she mumbled against his chest, still unwilling to let him go.

He straightened up suddenly, looking down at her with a frown. "Wait...I missed Christmas, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Malia looked back at him with a shrug, "a week ago now. It's New Year's Eve."

"Malia, I'm sorry," he shook his head ruefully, "I was really trying to get back to you in time."

"Just make it up to me now," she murmured, kissing him hard once again, beyond grateful that he was safe, and alive, and back in her arms once again.

He sighed against her lips. "Deal."

"Well come on then," she smiled at him, linking her hand with his and tugging him towards the balcony door, "why don't we get you into the shower and get you cleaned up?"

Scott broke into a wider smile at that. "That sounds like a good plan."

They may have missed another Christmas, but New Year's Eve in Paris was the best one Malia had ever had.

* * *

 _ **Happy New Year! Two more to go.**_


	5. Chapter 5

**FIVE-Happy Xmas (War Is Over)**

 _ **This one was the hardest one to write because of how**_ **painful** _ **it got...but also my favorite. My stories always tend to get really dark before they get fluffy and light again, fair warning.**_

 _ **Also, special thanks to vvgarciaquinonez and Guest for your reviews last chap! (And of course thanks to StarBurnedOut, Hawk2010, LycoX, and ImHellaUgly for reviewing the original posting of this story as one long fic), you guys are amazing! Glad to know some of you are still reading this repost.**_

 _ **Some minor changes added to this chapter, hang on for a happy ending next chap (and probably tissues needed for this one). Thanks for reading!**_

 _ **Fictional**_

* * *

It was Christmas Eve, and Malia felt like her entire world was ending.

Because it was.

With a deep sigh, she buried her face in her hands, trying unsuccessfully to drown out the harsh, mechanical sounds of the machines in the room.

 _Beep, whoosh. Beep, whoosh._

Barely suppressing a growl, she sat back up, staring at Scott's limp, motionless form in the bed, before she hesitantly reached forward and took his cool, clammy hand into hers.

She opened and closed her mouth uselessly, trying to find the words, before closing it sharply again with a click of her jaw, because she had no idea where to start.

The cold silence in the room was only interrupted by the sound of the ventilator currently keeping Scott alive, making him breathe even as his body shut down, even as he slipped farther and farther away from them.

 _Beep, whoosh. Beep, whoosh._

Malia sighed again, running her free hand raggedly down her face, squeezing Scott's cold fingers in her own.

"...Scott," she finally began, her voice quiet and hoarse, swallowing thickly in an effort to push back the tears that she still refused to let fall, that she was barely holding back now.

No response.

Not that she had really thought there would be, but she couldn't help but hope. She blamed Scott for her uncharacteristic optimism, because a few years ago, Malia was sure she would have given up already when faced with this situation.

"Lydia," she continued, leaning closer from her chair towards his bed, "and Deaton, actually...say that I should talk to you. That you might hear me, or something. I know your mom and Stiles have been trying."

Still no response, just the steady beeping of the machine pushing air into his lungs.

 _Beep, whoosh. Beep, whoosh._

Malia bit down on her lower lip in an effort to keep it from trembling. "And I don't know if you can hear me, Scott, if you can hear any of us, but if you can...you _really_ need to wake up."

She paused, letting out a shaky breath as she stared at his passive, motionless face, desperately searching for any sign of life, any sign that he was still hanging on, still fighting to get back to her.

 _Beep, whoosh. Beep, whoosh._

"Deaton said," her voice was shaky now, unbidden tears welling up in her eyes, "that there's nothing more we can do. That there's nothing else that we can do to save you."

Malia shook her head, blinking rapidly against the building wetness in her eyes. "He said we should start saying our goodbyes."

 _Beep, whoosh. Beep, whoosh._

"But here's the thing, Scott," she sniffed, wiping her face haphazardly with the back of her hand, "I'm not ready to say goodbye. And we're not just going to let you go, not without a fight, okay? So that means you have to keep fighting, too. You can't leave us. You _can't_..."

Her voice broke as one lone tear finally escaped, rolling down her cheek. "...you can't leave me."

Still no response, no movement, not even a twitch or a moan, to let her know that he was still there.

Only the steady rhythm of the machine filled the aching silence of the room.

 _Beep, whoosh. Beep, whoosh._

"You have," she was losing her composure now, but there was no one else there at the moment to see it, "so much to come back for. Monroe is dead, and the war is over, Scott. We did it, well _you_ did it, but we won. We can finally live our lives again...but I need you for that. I don't want to do this without you..."

The tears were coming faster now, streaming down her face at ever increasing speed, but Malia didn't care any more, barely even noticed, her entire attention focused on the motionless form in the bed.

"Scott, I love you," she whispered between her tears, squeezing his hand desperately, "and I know I don't say it enough, even though you say it all the time, but I do, I _really_ do...and I need you to know that, okay? So please, if you can hear me, if you're still fighting, then you have to come back. Please come back Scott... _please_."

 _Beep, whoosh. Beep, whoosh._

The fear and the grief of losing the most important person in her life was crushing Malia under its weight, and she felt like she could barely breathe, could barely function. She collapsed helplessly against the bed, burying her face in her arms, her shoulders shaking with the force of the sobs that she couldn't hold back any longer.

Scott was dying...and she felt like she was dying too.

* * *

"How is he today?" Stiles asked hoarsely as he and Lydia entered Scott's bedroom later that day. Melissa had turned his old room at her house into a makeshift hospital room, and Malia didn't even want to know how she'd gotten all of the medical equipment there. In fact, she was currently at the hospital now getting more supplies, because she adamantly refused to face the fact that she might lose Scott for good his time.

Even with the brave face that Melissa put on, Malia just pretended that she couldn't hear her crying at night in her bedroom on the phone to Argent, begging him to find something that could save her son, because they all needed to believe that they could still do _something_.

Even if Deaton had finally said that there was no more hope, was just trying to prepare them for the worst, the rest of them weren't ready to give up just yet.

"The same," Malia replied, sitting up stiffly in the chair by Scott's bed, hoping her eyes weren't still red and puffy. Thankfully, if they were, her friends didn't mention it.

"Argent called earlier," Lydia said softly, coming to stand by Malia and resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He's still looking."

"So is Derek, and Mason and Liam," Stiles added, walking over to the other side of Scott's bed, frowning heavily as he looked down at his best friend.

It was terrifying, to see him like this, so still and fragile, looking like some sort of alien with all the tubes and wires coming out of him, all the modern medical equipment keeping him alive that typically a werewolf wouldn't even _need_ to survive.

But really, Scott wasn't supposed to be alive at _all_ , so they had to take small victories where they could.

The final battle with Monroe and her army had been bloody, and ugly, and long, but in the end, the supernatural had prevailed. They had won, and it was truly, _finally_ over...but not without the casualties of war.

Monroe was finally gone, so the hunters had lost their leader, and they had been slowly dispersing until there was hardly anything left of them now.

But now the supernatural side was losing Scott too, because nothing about war was ever fair.

He had technically been dead when they'd gotten to him at the end of the final battle, because of course he'd put himself directly in the middle of the fray, but someway, _somehow_ he had clung to life, just enough to give them hope that he might actually pull through.

After all, this was hardly the first time that Scott had cheated death.

But they didn't know what type of weapon had been used on him, what he had been hit with or poisoned with during the battle, and they didn't know how to fight it...and they didn't know how to save him.

As his body gave up, succumbing to his injuries, they had ended up hooking him up to the ventilator as a last resort, to keep him breathing, to buy them some more time...but time was quickly running out.

"They still haven't found anything," Malia breathed, looking away and linking her hand with Scott's again, "have they?"

Stiles pressed his lips tightly together with a shake of his head, eyes wet. "No."

"But they're still looking, everyone is," Lydia added, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "We're not giving up."

"Just Deaton," Malia said bitterly, because she still didn't understand it.

"He's just being realistic," Lydia replied with a sigh. "And he's still looking into other avenues too, but he just wants us to be prepared, just in case..."

"In case the worst happens," Stiles cut in, crossing his arms in front of his chest, jaw clenching as he tried to hold back his tears. "In case we...lose him."

Malia's eyes shot up to meet Stiles' across the bed, and she could read the fear and agony reflected back in her own. "...why do you sound like we already have?"

"No, I'm not, I'm not giving up _yet_ ," Stiles replied hoarsely, wiping away a stray tear with the back of his hand.

"But?" Malia questioned, not even trying to hide the fear in her voice. "Why are you guys even here? I thought you were helping Argent look for something that could help, or that you were still tapping your sources at the FBI to find something that could save him."

She didn't miss the long look that Lydia and Stiles exchanged, making her panic and irritation skyrocket even further. "Will you guys just tell me what the hell is going on?"

"We were looking, but we had to come back," Lydia interjected with a heavy sigh, her grip increasing on her shoulder, causing Malia to turn and look up at her, "because we're running out of time."

"Lydia," she asked her cautiously, eyes wide now, afraid to know the answer, "did you sense something? Do you know if something is about to happen to Scott?"

Lydia didn't answer right away, but when her face fell, Malia jumped up out of the chair, coming face to face with her. "Lydia, just say it. Don't try to hide it from me."

Lydia nodded, biting her lower lip. "I'm sorry, Malia. I just, I have a feeling..."

" _That_ kind of feeling?" Malia could feel the panic building in her chest now, her heart clenching painfully as she demanded an answer from her friend. Lydia still hesitated, uncharacteristicly fumbling for her words. "Lydia!"

"It's more like a premonition," Stiles added miserably before Lydia could answer. "Like a message, sort of. A warning."

"So, what does that even mean?" Malia was growing frustrated now, looking back and forth between them. "Just tell me what's going on!"

"It was Allison," Lydia finally said, holding her gaze steadily, pausing as Malia's eyes grew wide, staring at her incredulously. "I know it sounds crazy, Malia, trust me I know, but I'm telling you, I _heard_ Allison's voice..." she trailed off, voice tight, eyes filling with unshed tears as she talked about her dead best friend.

Malia hadn't really known Allison, but she knew what she had meant to the pack once, and to Lydia, and _Scott_ , and she swallowed thickly, waiting for Lydia to continue.

"Okay, so, what did she...what did you hear?"

"It's all a little confusing, and hazy, and I only understood bits and pieces of it to be honest," Lydia sighed, running her hands through her hair, taking a deep breath to regain her composure. "But basically she was telling me, well _warning_ me, that we have to figure out how to help Scott...by tomorrow night."

Tomorrow night was Christmas _and_ a full moon, but Malia didn't know what that meant, didn't want to think about what Allison's warning from beyond might mean for Scott.

"Or what?" she asked hoarsely, eyes shining brightly with unshed tears now. "What happens tomorrow night?"

"If we," Stiles interjected, voice rough as he tried unsuccessfully to reign in his emotions, "if we don't find a way to save him, by tomorrow night..."

His voice broke, and he just shook his head, unable to continue.

"Then he's going to die," Lydia choked out, and Malia's heart dropped at her words. "If we can't find a way to save him by tomorrow night, then he's going to die."

* * *

It seemed surreal, like a dream, or a nightmare. Everyone was gathered in Scott's room, just hoping, praying for a miracle.

Because they didn't know what else to do.

It was comforting, in a small way, to have most of the pack gathered together in Scott's room, surrounding him with their protection and their love, all simultaneously hoping that they could will him into living somehow, into proving Lydia's ominous message from beyond the grave wrong.

Night was falling, the full moon slowly rising in the sky, and Malia had almost forgotten it was Christmas, because with Scott's life on the line, that's all any of them could even think about.

"I'm not ready for this," Liam's voice broke, voice full of unshed tears, "He can't _die_. I can't be the Alpha, I don't want to be, I don't want to lose him..."

"Hey, don't even think like that," Mason tried to comfort him, slinging an arm around his best friend's shoulders and giving a squeeze. "It's not over yet. Scott's still alive."

"And Scott's strong, he's the strongest one of all of us," Corey added quietly from Mason's other side.

"That's right," Melissa replied, forcing her voice to sound braver than she felt, but her underlying fear was evident to everyone, even the non-supernaturals in the room. "He's still here, and he's still fighting, and we're _not_ going to lose him."

She frowned even at her own words, glancing at her phone for maybe the hundredth time since they'd all been gathered together, waiting on word from Argent as he scrambled to find a last minute miracle. She set her phone back down without a word, running her hands tenderly through Scott's tousled hair as he lay eerily still in the bed, her eyes brimming with tears. "There's still hope."

Malia just nodded, not trusting her voice, squeezing Scott's hand from where she stood on the other side of the bed. It was agonizing, just waiting, but they didn't know what else to do. They had all tried everything they could think of, searched everywhere possible to find a cure, but it was all coming down to the final minutes now.

Malia didn't think she'd ever felt more terrified and helpless in her entire life.

"He's going to make it," Stiles' voice was rough and quiet as he spoke, as if he hardly believed it himself. "I mean, this is _Scott_ we're talking about here. If anyone could pull through this...then it's him."

"I could be wrong," Lydia tried, but it fell flat, because Lydia was never wrong about these kinds of things, even when she desperately wanted to be. "I could have been hearing things, because I've never _heard_ Allison before, even when that's all I wanted, to talk to her somehow."

"It's okay," Malia said hoarsely, giving her arm a quick squeeze, because she knew her friend was somehow blaming herself, even though she was just the messenger.

"I'm sorry, I just..." Lydia trailed off, with a shake of her head. They all wanted her to be wrong, no one more than her, but that was just never the case when it came to Lydia and death.

Just then, a loud knocking on the front door downstairs startled them all. They all looked at each other curiously, wondering who else it could possibly be.

"It's not Chris," Melissa said quietly with a questioning look, "not yet."

"And Derek is still a ways out," Stiles added with a frown, hand automatically going to the handle of the side arm he always had at his hip now, ever since he had become a full-fledged FBI agent. Considering everything they had faced lately with the end of the war, Stiles refused to leave home without his gun. "And my Dad and Parrish are still following down some leads outside of town."

"Deaton is still at the clinic, trying one last thing," Lydia added, looking at the others with concern.

"Let me go check," Stiles nodded stiffly at them, hand still at the top of his gun, body automatically going into fighting stance as he left the room.

After a few moments, they heard some voices arguing downstairs, and the loud slamming of the front door, followed by Stiles stomping back up the stairs. He came back into the bedroom with a frustrated sigh, his gaze landing directly on Malia.

"Malia, it's Peter."

"Peter?" she asked confusion, because she had no idea why he would be there. "What does he want?"

Stiles shook his head, gesturing at her helplessly. "To see you."

Malia frowned, looking at the rest of the pack before turning back to Stiles. "Well, go ahead and tell him to leave, because I'm not leaving Scott."

"Gladly," Stiles gave her a smug look, turning to head back down the stairs when Melissa's voice stopped him.

"Wait."

Stiles froze, turning back around, as Malia turned to face Melissa across the bed, eyebrows raised in question.

"I know you and Peter have a...complicated relationship," Melissa began, looking at her seriously. "And I know he's done some unforgivable things in the past," she glanced down at Scott and then back up at her, "but he's also been sort of an ally for you guys the past few years, even if he's not always reliable."

She sighed, giving her a knowing look. "Like it or not, Malia, he really does care about you, even in his own selfish way. Just go talk to him."

"No," Malia shook her head firmly, jaw clenched, "I'm not leaving Scott."

"Scott will be fine," Melissa reassured her soothingly, "and you'll only be gone for a few minutes. You haven't left his side since this whole thing started. We'll be right here with him while you're downstairs. He'll be okay, Malia."

Even though Malia could hear through the hollowness of her words, because she knew that Melissa was completely terrified, she also knew that she was right. She needed to at least see what Peter wanted, and she could leave Scott for just a minute.

She sighed heavily. "Okay, fine. I'll go talk to him."

"Want me to come with you?" Stiles offered, looking at her carefully, and Malia gave him a small smile. It was still a weird concept, but Stiles was surprisingly good with a gun.

"It's okay, Stiles," she shook her head, "but I've got it."

He gave her a short nod in return as she headed for the stairs. She walked through the living room and purposefully swung open the front door of the McCall's house, stepping out onto the front porch and closing it firmly behind her.

Peter assessed her carefully from where he stood on the porch, the light of the full moon casting eerie shadows down on both of them. "You look exhausted."

Malia sighed, crossing her arms. "What do you want Peter?"

He frowned, almost looking confused as he gestured at her. "Well, I thought it was obvious. I came to see if you were alright."

"Well, he's not dead, if that's what you were hoping," she bit back between gritted teeth. "So you can go."

"Malia," Peter sighed tiredly with a shake of his head, "I thought by now, at least, that you'd start believing that I don't _actually_ want Scott dead. After everything we've been through with Monroe and her mindless lackeys, I thought I'd proven myself by now, especially after I joined up with his little cause."

"And maybe I'd believe that," she narrowed her eyes at him, "if it weren't for all of the times you tried to kill Scott _before_."

Peter scoffed, waving her off. "Malia, come on, that was ages ago. I've changed, you've changed, we all have. Some for the better more than others, I'll give you that, but regardless, we're all changed people now."

"And some people don't change at all," she raised an accusing eyebrow at him.

Peter put a hand to his chest in mock hurt. "You and I both know that I've changed _more_ than anyone. And yes, Scott and I mostly try to be cordial for your benefit, and I'll even admit it, he and I are little more than mutually beneficial allies really, but I don't want him to _die_. Not anymore. Surprisingly, he wasn't even that terrible a leader of this whole movement against Monroe. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not going to be president of the Scott McCall fan club anytime soon or anything. Besides, Stiles already has that title, and Derek is a close second, actually..."

"Peter," Malia sighed in exasperation, cutting him off with a shake of her head, "just get to the point."

"My point is," he stepped closer to her, voice uncharacteristically gentle, "is that you love him, Malia. And you're terrified that you're going to lose him."

She froze at his words, furiously blinking back the tears that suddenly sprung to her eyes, not used to being this vulnerable in front of him. They had been continually repairing their relationship over the years, but it was still tenuous at best, because she never knew how much she could _trust_ him.

"And what would you know about that?" she growled at him, trying to hide her fear behind anger instead, because that was easier than letting Peter see how far she'd fallen. "You don't even know what love is, you haven't loved anyone but yourself for your entire life!"

Peter flinched at her words, lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke again, looking directly at _her_. "Not entirely true."

She paused at that, giving a hollow laugh. "Is that really why you're here? To see if I'm okay?"

He nodded slowly, taking another step closer to her, eyes burning with sincerity. "Would you believe me if I said yes?"

She hugged her arms tightly around herself, staring back at him as she answered. "I want to."

Peter was quiet for a moment before he spoke again. "Well, Malia, believe me when I say that I'm worried about you."

She blinked against her tears again, determined to remain in control. "Well, I'm fine. You can go."

"You're not," he replied quietly, giving her a knowing look. "Remember what I said about lying to a perfect liar? It doesn't work. Not with me."

"What do you want me to say?" she shot back, waving her arms around. "That I'm not okay? That I'm terrified? That I don't know what to do? That I'm falling apart because Scott is dy..."

A sob suddenly escaped her mouth unbidden, and she covered her face with her hands, turning her back to Peter in shame.

"Malia, hey," she heard Peter come up behind her, hesitantly placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently.

"...I'm okay," she rasped between her tears, still not turning to face him. "I'll be okay. Just go. Please."

"You can't be serious," Peter sounded genuinely surprised. "I'm not going anywhere when you're like this."

She nodded slowly, her back still to him, before she took in a shuddering breath, determined to regain her composure. She hastily wiped away her tears and turned to face him once again. "You don't need to stay."

"Let me help," Peter implored her, looking at her seriously. "I want to help. Tell me what I can do, Malia."

"There's nothing you can do," she shook her head, subconsciously taking a step back away from him, feeling exposed now. "I need to get back to Scott."

"Malia, I..." he took another step towards her, but she just gestured for him to stop, not sure she could keep herself together any longer.

"No, Peter, there's nothing you can do. Thanks, uh, for checking on me, but I don't need you to stay. Please just go," her voice was soft, hollow now after the tears.

"Okay, if that's what you want," he nodded with a heavy exhale, taking a step back again.

She smiled sadly, giving him a short nod of farewell, and began to turn back towards the door when Peter's voice stopped her short again.

"Malia, wait."

She looked back over her shoulder with a questioning look on her face. "Yeah?"

"Scott is going to be okay," he said quietly, but so matter-of-factly, _so_ confidently, that it made Malia pause. "Trust me."

"Wait, what do you mean?" she furrowed her brows. "You don't know that."

Peter shrugged, arms crossed, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Just call it intuition."

Malia opened her mouth to ask him further what he meant, but he just shook his head, walking backwards away from her. "Everything is going to be fine. Goodnight, Malia."

"What? Peter, hey! Wait..." she called after him, but he was already gone, disappearing into the darkness.

She frowned in confusion at his words, but decided not too read too much into it because it was _Peter_ after all, and headed back inside.

* * *

Malia wasn't prepared for the somber scene when she made it back into Scott's bedroom.

The pack was gathered closely around the bed now, and Malia could sense from the moment she came back into the room that something was really, _really_ wrong.

"What's happening?" she asked in panic, rushing into the room and pushing her way close to Scott's side. "Is he okay?"

"He's still alive, but..." Mason trailed off, shaking his head, Corey rubbing his back soothingly. Liam stood stiffly next to them, hands balled into tight fists in effort to keep from shifting from his intense emotions.

Melissa wasn't even answering now, hovering close to the bed, furiously checking Scott's vitals, but her tears were threatening to spill.

"His heart," Stiles added hoarsely, clinging to Lydia as if she was the only thing still keeping him upright. "His pulse is slowing down, it's getting weaker every minute, and even with the ventilator keeping him breathing..."

"What?" Malia prodded fearfully, but she already knew. "What is it?"

"His body is shutting down," Stiles rasped heavily, a tear rolling down his cheek. "Even with all of the machines trying to keep him alive. It's just...it's just not enough."

"He's dying," Lydia whispered, looking at her sadly. "The warning, Allison...it was right. We're really losing him."

Melissa's phone suddenly rang, making them all jump in the heavy silence, as she scrambled to answer it.

"Where are you?" she barked, her voice raw. "Hurry! We need you here _now_."

She hung up, carelessly tossing the phone on the side of Scott's bed, messing with a setting on the ventilator again, going into full nurse mode, unable to stop and think as a mother in the current situation, because then she would break.

Only minutes later, but what felt like an eternity, Argent suddenly burst into the room, Derek hot on his heels.

Scott's heart was barely beating now.

"You're cutting it really close!" Melissa urged in panic as they came into the room. "We're losing him!"

"Here," Argent said, holding up a small clear bottle with some sort of solution mixed inside it, "I don't know if this will work..."

"But it's all we've got," Derek said heavily, frowning darkly as he looked at Scott's prone form in the bed. "It's the only thing we could find."

"Well then it will _have_ to work," Melissa clenched her jaw, lines of worry creasing her forehead. Without pause, she grabbed a syringe and filled it up with the solution in one fluid motion. She only hesitated a moment with a look over her shoulder at Argent. "Wait! How do I give it to him?"

"Directly into his heart," Argent told her quickly. "It has to be injected directly into his heart!"

"Melissa, now," Lydia croaked out, eyes pressed tightly shut, whole body trembling as she fought to suppress a scream. "Now!"

Melissa nodded, pursing her lips tightly, eyes wide. "Okay, okay, here it goes..."

With a deep breath, she plunged the the needle directly into Scott's heart.

For a long agonizing moment, nothing happened, and Malia knew she couldn't take it if this final attempt didn't work, that she wouldn't be able to survive it if she really lost him.

"Come on, Scott, come on," Stiles muttered next to her, making a nervous fist. "You can do this, come on..."

"Scott, you're too strong to die like this!" Melissa pleaded with him, voice shaking now. "You have to fight!"

"Come on Scott, you're an Alpha," Liam choked out, "and you have to beat this thing, come on..."

"Scott, we need you," Malia barely recognized her own voice through her tears, "please..."

Time ticked by agonizingly slow, Scott's heart coming to stop. And then, just as they were starting to give up all hope...it worked.

Scott's heart rate suddenly started coming up, his pulse slowly returning to a normal rate to their astonishment.

Then his eyes suddenly flew open, shining a bright alpha red as he slowly came back to consciousness. He immediately started choking and gagging on the tube in his throat from the ventilator, eyes wide with panic and grogginess, completely unaware of what was going on around him.

"Easy, Scott, easy! You're okay," Melissa soothed him, rubbing circles on his chest and trying to calm him before he hurt himself or anyone around him, "you're safe, sweetheart. Don't try to fight the tube, this is helping you breathe, okay? Just relax and let it help you."

She nodded quickly at Derek and Liam, who as the strongest two in the room, came closer and helped to hold him still against the bed as he continued to struggle, thrashing around in the bed and against the machines hooked up to him, ready to fight an unknown enemy.

"Scott," Malia choked out, coming closer so that he could see her, beyond grateful to see him awake again, "you're okay. We've got you. I've got you. I'm right here."

He seemed to relax instantly at her voice, finally giving up his panicked struggle, his eyes roaming around until they finally landed on her face. She squeezed his hand tightly in reassurance, and almost burst into tears when she felt him squeeze back.

Scott was alive. And he was going to be okay.

* * *

"You're looking a lot better," Derek gave a small smile from where he stood at the foot of the bed.

"Thanks," Scott smiled back at him, "I'm feeling a lot better, seriously."

His expression became a little more serious then as he looked at both Derek and Argent. "And that's thanks to you, both of you. You saved my life."

Argent nodded at him. "I'm just glad we got it to you in time."

"Me too," Scott sighed, leaning back against the pillows. Malia pulled him closer against her side from where she was curled up in the bed next to him. Scott was getting stronger, but he wasn't completely recovered yet, and he was ordered on bed rest by Melissa and pretty much the entire pack, until they were sure that he was really okay.

"How did you guys even find a cure, anyways?" Stiles asked curiously from where he and Lydia stood on the other side of the bed.

"It's a long story," Argent sighed, still looking completely exhausted from his nonstop search, "but we found an old ritual that uses the blood of a supernatural shapeshifter, but it had to be a powerful one. The catch was that it also had to be the blood of someone who had been beyond the grave and back, to use as a sort-of trade off, or a payment, to keep someone else in the land of the living."

"Not an easy combination to find," Derek added then, "especially because the ritual might have unintended consequences on anyone who helped us. They had to be willing to complete the ritual without knowing what the long term effects would be."

"And considering it's blood magic," Argent looked at them heavily, "there's no telling what those consequences might be."

"So, what sucker did you convince to participate then?" Stiles furrowed his brows. "That couldn't have been an easy sell."

"We can get into it later, but let's just say we got some help from an unlikely source," Derek replied, looking back at Scott with an unreadable expression. "But for now, you need to rest."

Malia suddenly thought of Peter's strange comment the night before, and she stored away that thought for later, having a sinking feeling that she _really_ needed to talk to him about this.

Scott opened his mouth to protest Derek's statement, but just then Melissa entered the bedroom with a tray of food, setting it down by the bed. "He's right. Scott does need to rest. You can all catch up later."

"Not a bad idea," Argent barely suppressed a yawn. "We'll talk later, Scott. Promise."

"Okay, deal," Scott gave him a short nod of understanding.

"I'll come back by tomorrow," Derek added then, giving him a grateful look. "It's good to see you awake."

Scott nodded at him with a tired smile. "Thank you, for everything."

Derek gave him a short nod before leaving the room, Argent on his heels. Melissa had already shooed away Liam, Mason, and Corey earlier, as well as the Sheriff and Parrish, so now that only left Stiles, Lydia, and Malia.

Melissa gave them a long look, but she knew it would be nearly impossible to split up the four of them. "Five minutes," she warned gently but there was a smile on her face.

"Yeah, of course," Lydia replied sweetly, but all of them already knew that they weren't going anywhere.

Melissa couldn't hide her smirk as she left.

"I can't believe everything that happened while I was...out," Scott said carefully with a sigh. "I can't believe I missed Christmas, _again_."

"Yeah, man, you missed a lot," Stiles sighed, shaking his head, "but the important thing now is that you're okay."

Malia couldn't have agreed more, snuggling closer into the bed against him. "You really scared us."

He turned to look at her, pressing a kiss against her forehead. "I know. I'm sorry, Malia. I'm sorry that I scared all of you."

"Just never do it again," she told him firmly, leaning over to land a kiss on his lips. "Ever."

Scott gave her a wry grin. "I promise I'll do my best."

They both knew that it was a promise he coudn't keep, but maybe it was one that was more likely now that the war was finally over.

"I don't know what this means about my abilities," Lydia mused, sagging against Stiles. "I mean, they've never worked quite like this before, but this could be something else I could use in the future, to help us."

She sighed, trailing off with a sad smile. "I just wish that I could _really_ talk to Allison."

"I know," Scott said softly, a wistful look on his face, and Malia frowned sympathetically, because she knew the other girl's loss still haunted her friends.

"At least we were able to have some more warning, this time," Stiles said quietly, putting his arm around Lydia's shoulders and giving her a comforting squeeze. His eyes were boring into Scott's when he continued.

"You cut it way too close this time," his voice was soft, serious. "I don't know how much you remember, if anything, but we thought for a minute there we were going to lose you, Scotty."

Scott was quiet for a long moment, linking his hand tightly with Malia's and squeezing before he finally spoke again. "For a minute there, you did."

Malia frowned, giving him a questioning look at his words, as Scott looked first at her and then over to Stiles and Lydia.

"And Lydia?" he was looking at her now, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Yeah?" she replied quizzically, raising her eyebrows. The room went completely silent when he spoke again.

"Allison says hi."

* * *

 _ **Can't have an angsty story without some Allison mentions (tears forever).**_

 _ **Also, Peter is such a complex character and also**_ **extremely** _ **hard to write, so I hope that whole scene with him and Malia came across in character.**_

 _ **One more!**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Well, after all that angst and hurt/comfort, here's the happy ending you all deserve!**_

 _ **And thanks of course to Julka, vvgarciaquinonez, maliamccall, Ffxo, and sinsoversaints for your reviews last chapter, as well as all of you who have given feedback along the way. Writing essentially 6 different stories in one fic was no easy feat, so your support is what makes all this writing (whew!) worth it. Thank youuuuu!**_

 _ **Enjoy the fluff.**_

 _ **Fictional**_

* * *

 **+ONE-Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas**

"So you guys are still coming out for New Year's Eve, right?" Stiles asked as he threw on his coat and quickly turned around to help Lydia into hers.

"Yeah man, we'll be there," Scott smiled, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Can't wait."

"You guys are going to love D.C." Lydia beamed at them as she wrapped up in her scarf. "And there are so many wedding dress shops we can go to while you're there..."

"Kill me now," Malia rolled her eyes, but she was still grinning at her friend.

"Hey now, that's no way for my maid-of-honor to act," Lydia fake admonished her. "Besides, we will be dress shopping for _you_ , not for me, so it'll be even better. I have at least eight different stores in mind for bridesmaid dresses."

"Why are we friends with them again?" Malia turned to Scott, jerking her head in their direction, and he chuckled at her, shaking his head.

"What Malia means to say is that she can't wait," Scott grinned in amusement as he slung an arm over her shoulders, pulling her close to his side. "Don't worry, we'll be there."

"Good, because I've got some really _epic_ plans for us for New Year's," Stiles said with a hint of pride.

Lydia gave him a hard look. "Oh no. We are _not_ going to that cheesy party downtown."

"What? Why not?" Stiles looked incredulous. "It's going to have music, and an open bar, and balloons and streamers coming from the ceiling, _and_ party hats! What's so bad about that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Lydia put her hands on her hips, "how about terrible music that's too loud, and drunk people falling all over us, and ridiculous party hats?"

"Come on Lyds, it'll be fun," Stiles grabbed her hands, pulling her close to him. "Besides, I want to celebrate the new year big this year, with our two best friends," he gestured at Scott and Malia, "and my _fiancé_."

Stiles paused, shaking his head with a laugh before continuing. "I still can't believe I have a fiancé. I still can't believe that _Lydia Martin_ is my fiancé."

"Oh come on, you guys have been engaged for over two months already," Malia sighed in mock exasperation, but she was still smiling at both of them. "It can't still be that shocking."

"We just can't believe she actually said yes," Scott shrugged nonchalantly, unable to suppress a smile.

"Ha, so the werewolf has jokes tonight," Stiles frowned at him, but he wasn't actually mad. "Real funny."

"Okay guys, you ready to go?" Sheriff Stilinski walked up to them just then, arms loaded up with care packages of food that Melissa had no less than forced him to take.

"Yeah Dad, it's getting late," Stiles nodding in agreement. "We've still got to stop by Lydia's mom's too."

Melissa and Argent joined the group by the front door to say their farewells.

"Melissa, thanks for hosting," the Sheriff told her sincerely. "Everything was amazing, per usual."

Melissa waved him off with a bright smile. "Of course, we were happy to have all of you. I'm just glad we actually had some leftovers to send with you."

Which was an excellent point, considering it had been all of them in addition to Liam, Mason and Corey earlier in the day, before they'd left to attend their own family get-togethers. Derek and Cora had stopped by too, before they headed out of town to meet Braeden and make their journey south back to Cora's pack. Theo had even made a brief appearance, his uneasy place in the pack strengthening over the years, and Parrish had called from the station to send his love and thanks for Melissa's care package, since he was stuck on duty as Beacon Hills was hit with a freak snowstorm for the first time in almost 20 years.

It had been a full house, and a full Christmas, and Malia couldn't remember the last time she had felt this happy. That was likely because the last few Christmases they had had were a complete disaster, _especially_ the last one, and this was the first one she and Scott had actually gotten to spend together.

It had been perfect.

And with the war over and the hunters gone, the pack had finally been able to return to a relatively normal life, or as least as normal as it ever got for them. Lydia had finished her thesis at MIT and moved down to D.C. to be with Stiles as he was stationed there for the FBI, and now they were planning their wedding for next year.

Scott was back at UC Davis now, finishing up his degree and applying to veterinary schools. Malia had moved with him into an apartment off-campus and found a job with the Department of Natural Resources, which was perfect because no one knew the outdoors and wildlife better than someone who had actually _lived_ as a part of the wildlife for eight years.

There was a lot to be thankful for.

"Thank you for such a wonderful Christmas," Lydia hugged Melissa tightly, followed immediately by Stiles.

"Everything was awesome. Thanks for feeding me."

Melissa laughed as she released him. "I've pretty much been doing that at least once a week anyways since you were four, Stiles."

Stiles grinned at that. "No complaints here."

"Merry Christmas everyone," Lydia said brightly as they headed out the door.

"Merry Christmas guys," Scott waved back in farewell.

"Hey Scotty, call me later, okay?" Stiles tossed over his shoulder, trying to sound casual, but Malia cocked an eyebrow at him in question.

"Yeah, I will," Scott called after him as he walked out the door, and Malia just chuckled to herself, chalking it up to Stiles' separation anxiety from his best friend. Ever since they had lived across the country from each other, Stiles was basically glued to Scott's side from the moment they were ever in the same place again, and she should have known that Christmas wouldn't be an exception.

As the door shut, Melissa sighed heavily, both from contentment and exhaustion, as Argent put an arm around her waist. "Well, I have to say, this was a pretty darn good Christmas."

"It was wonderful," Argent nodded, giving her a squeeze, "Thanks to you."

"Yeah Mom, it was really great," Scott smiled at her warmly.

"It really was," Malia agreed wholeheartedly. She and Scott had spent the morning with her father, and they had even tolerated a little time together yesterday with Peter for Christmas Eve...after all, he had inadvertently saved Scott's life last Christmas...but this whole evening, surrounded by their pack, had really felt like having a _family_ again. "This was pretty much a perfect Christmas."

"Well," Scott said then, arching an eyebrow at her, "almost perfect."

"What do you mean?" she looked at him curiously. "Scott, I don't think that there's anything that could make this day any better."

"Come on," he grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly as he reached for their coats, "I want to show you something."

"Well, if you guys are leaving, I think we're just going to head on up to bed," Melissa interjected quietly, and although there wasn't anything strange about the way she said it, Malia didn't miss the expression on her face, looking at the both of them just a little too long. "So, we'll see you two in the morning?"

"Yeah, of course," Scott nodded, giving both her and Argent a tight hug. "We'll be here."

After they said their goodbyes, they jumped in Malia's car, Scott driving them to an unknown destination.

"So, are you going to tell me where we're going?" Malia huffed, as they drove towards the outskirts of the preserve.

"It's a surprise," Scott replied, holding her hand across the center console. "Trust me, it'll be worth it."

Malia grumbled, giving him an unimpressed look. "It better be, it's freezing out. We could be in bed right now."

"Oh really?" Scott wagged his eyebrows at her, before turning back to the road, and Malia slapped his arm playfully.

"That wasn't exactly what I meant," she shot back, before adding deviously, "but yeah, that too."

"Well then, I better make this quick," he grinned, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, before he finally came to a stop near the slope of a hill in the preserve. "Come on, we have to walk a little ways in."

They got out of the car, their breath misting in the frigid winter air of the woods, before Malia suddenly realized where they were: Lookout Point.

"Seriously?" she grumbled as she trudged after him in the snow, heading up the hill. "We've been out here a thousand times. What could you possibly want to show me now?"

"We've never been out here at Christmas," he replied matter-of-factly over his shoulder. "And we can't even _remember_ the last time it snowed this much in Beacon Hills."

"So? Why would that matter..." Malia trailed off as they came up to the edge of the high cliff, overlooking all of the twinkling lights of Beacon Hills, far off in the distance.

But instead of just the normal city lights, there were hundreds of Christmas lights that could be seen decorating all of the houses below, adding to the beauty of the skyline, with the rare appearance of snow adding to the sight. Beacon Hills had been turned into some sort of a Christmas wonderland.

Scott was right...it _was_ worth it.

"Okay," she nodded, taking in the view for a moment, "you were right. This view is beautiful."

"Yeah, it really is," he replied softly, and she turned back from the cliff to see that he wasn't looking at the houses at all, but he was looking directly at _her_.

Malia huffed at him, but she couldn't stop the edges of a smile emerging on her face. "You are such a sap."

Scott grinned, walking closer to her. "I thought that's what you loved about me."

"That's just one thing," she told him casually, as she bent down to pick up a handful of snow. "But I also love that I'm faster than you."

And without any warning, she pelted him directly in the face with a snowball.

She scurried back a few feet, as Scott shook his head, clearing the snow off his face as his eyes lit up a fiery alpha red. "We'll just see about that."

"Prove it," Malia shot back, eyes flashing blue in return, dancing around on the balls of her feet in the snow as she waited for him to make a move.

Scott paced around for a moment, sizing her up almost like she was his prey, before she was suddenly pelted with snowballs in rapid succession.

She was able to duck under one and dodge out of the way of another, before taking one in the side and chest. It didn't hurt, but she definitely felt them with the strength with which Scott was throwing them at her.

She could tell from the way he reacted when she sent over return fire that he could feel them too.

Within minutes, they were both laughing like they were kids, throwing snowballs at each other and running around in circles on the top of the cliff, quickly running out of breath from the exertion.

Then Malia landed a perfect shot directly to Scott's face, and she immediately knew it was a little harder than it should have been. He staggered down to one knee, grabbing his face with one hand as he made a pained grunt.

"Crap," Malia muttered, dropping the remaining snowball in her hand, rushing over to his side and looking down at him. "Sorry, I put a little too much into that one. Are you okay?"

Scott still had his face in his hands, and she was almost afraid she'd broken his nose, even though it would heal. That wasn't exactly how she wanted to end this great Christmas, to say the least.

Just when Malia was starting to fear that she actually had hurt him, he put down his hands and looked up at her with a wry grin. "I'm okay. Nice shot though."

She rolled her eyes at him with a smile. "And here I was starting to worry that I had actually hurt you."

"Well, you did hit me _in the face_ ," Scott laughed with a shake of his head, still kneeling on the ground. "The least you could do is help me up."

"Yeah, okay, okay," she chuckled, reaching a hand down to grab his and pull him back up to his feet.

But when she took his hand, Scott didn't get up, instead just staying down on his knee, still holding her hand tightly in his own. She furrowed her brows at him in confusion. "Uh, Scott?"

"Malia," he began, looking up at her, eyes shining, and she could practically _smell_ the nervousness rolling off of him all of a sudden, "there's uh, something I need to ask you."

Malia froze, her own heart pounding now, trying to comprehend what was happening. "Scott..."

With his free hand, he slowly reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a diamond ring, shining under the moonlight and reflecting in the snow.

 _Oh my God..._

"Malia," he began softly, looking up at her, voice full of emotion, "you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. We are perfect opposites, and perfect partners in every way, and I can't imagine my life without you, without having you by my side. After everything we've been through, and everything we've survived, we don't know how much time we will have, and I don't want to waste another minute."

Scott paused, taking in a deep breath and holding her gaze steadily. "Malia Elizabeth Tate...will you marry me?"

Malia just stared at him for a long moment, her whole body trembling as she took in what he was saying, before she realized she still hadn't answered.

"...Malia?" Scott questioned after a moment, starting to look worried, and she quickly dropped down to her knees in the snow in front of him, kissing him hard on the lips in answer.

"Oh yeah, sorry," she muttered against his lips, breaking into a wide smile, "I just, I mean...yes! Yes, Scott, I'll marry you."

"That's good," he laughed, giving her a little shake of his head, "you had me worried there for a minute."

Malia chuckled, pulling back to cup his face in her cold hands. "Sorry, I was just a little shocked that you were, you know, _proposing."_

"So, does that mean I can put the ring on now?" he gave her an amused grin, and she immediately shot out her left hand for him to take in his.

The ring was beautiful, and she stared at her hand as he gingerly slipped it on her finger, admiring the diamond shining like a beacon on her hand.

"Wow, it's really beautiful," she breathed, looking up at him in awe. "I love you, Scott McCall."

Scott pulled her tightly up against his chest, pressing their foreheads together. "I love you too, Malia. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," she whispered back, wrapping her hands around the back of his neck, the ring shining brightly in the dim light. Her lips found his once again, pushing him backwards into the snow in a tangled heap of kisses and laughter, completely lost in their own happiness.

It really was a perfect Christmas.

* * *

 _ **THE END...hope you all enjoyed! This was my first foray into a holiday-themed fic, and I may have gotten carried away on this one (was supposed to be a 2k secret santa fic exchange...yeah right), but I'm glad I was able to share it with all of you. Happy (belated) Holidays!**_

 ** _Which part was the best/worst? Your favorite part?_**

 _ **Hoping to update Descent or some of my other TW fics as soon as the muse hits me...see ya then!**_


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